


Stained Red

by TAle_xistime



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: Alexander Kirk doesn't exist, Aram has a chapter, Aram x Samar, Bittersweet Ending, Cape May AU, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Liz runs from feelings, Lizzington - Freeform, M rating for drug use and suicidal thoughts, No Smut, Red and Liz have the blowup missing from season 4, Red x Liz, SO MUCH ANGST AND SADNESS, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, The Author Regrets Everything, This book is not for the faint hearted, Tom is an ass, it's a lot guys, probably too much angst, red just really loves lizzie, saram
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:35:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28445499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TAle_xistime/pseuds/TAle_xistime
Summary: It's kind of a ridiculous concept I know, especially after Red's talk to Katarina about suicide. But I just ran with it. Not going to lie I kind of love this.Red almost OD's at Cape May, but is found and saved in time. Liz comes back, guilt ridden. They have the screaming match we missed from season 4. Full of mixed emotions, heartache, and the beginning of healing. This is not Liz bashing at all. This is the beginning of healing for our Lizzington ship in the aftermath of Liz faking her death.Some chapters has a song that it is named after. Lines of that song can be found in the chapter. I recommend listening to the song that corresponds with each chapter. I will include links in the notes of each chapter. Trust me, it hits different with the song. Even if the song has a different meaning then what is going on in the chapter it still can be interpreted to work with how the lines are used in each chapter.Even if it is a stretch, I still like this idea. I tried to keep the characterization in place, but I'm not sure I did well. But really, at this point, isn't most everything better than canon?I would like to say this book is not for the faint of heart. Attempted Suicide and Drug use are present.
Relationships: Aram Mojtabai & Samar Navabi, Aram Mojtabai/Samar Navabi, Elizabeth Keen & Raymond Reddington, Elizabeth Keen/Raymond Reddington
Comments: 40
Kudos: 117





	1. Bruises

**Author's Note:**

> So I understand that this concept is a stretch. especially with Red's anti-suicide talk in canon. But that's what AU's are for right?
> 
> So if I was able to come up with a song that corresponds with the chapter I will name the chapter after that song, include lines of the song in the chapter, and include a link to the song in the notes. I might not be able to come up with a song for each chapter, so if and when that happens please comment a song that you think would go well with that chapter and I will include it if it fits. If I can't find a song for a chapter I will just be lame and name it after the chapter number. Whoops.
> 
> So this first chapter has inspo and lines used from the song Bruises by Lewis Capaldi. You can check that out on YouTube here,
> 
> https://youtu.be/goZS7AKp1ck
> 
> Please do not read this if you may be triggered in anyway by Attempted suicide, suicidal thoughts, Drug abuse, and intense grief. The M-rating is not for smut, there is no sexual content here. It is sheerly for what is listed above. This is a heavy book. Writing is my therapy and this is me coping with stuff going on in my personal life. I hope I don't scare everyone away now, heh. I tend to do that. Also, Alexander Kirk and that whole fiasco does not take place/ exist. 
> 
> But by all means enjoy, and thank you for taking a shot on this ridiculous AU. You reading my book, and leaving kudo's and comments if you wish mean's a lot to me. Ok I will shut up now. Please enjoy. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters used in this book, and I make no profit off of my stories. Please be kind in the comments I am sweating right now posting this, not gonna lie.

He doubted anything could make it better.

The absolute pain, and anguish, the roaring grief that consumed every single thought in his mind. The sharp edges like glass, cutting into him, leaving him bleeding from every pore. 

Every breath he took since she left, feels like a waste. 

The only time he would ever be able to forget her, to completely forget his guilt in the love of his life's death, his all consuming love for her, would be if he himself was dead.

Nothing, not even straight opium, could stop his mind now.

But a sick part of him wanted to do something risky, needed to lash out at himself. Getting him out of his mind on a highly dangerous and addictive substance, was only a small part of his self-imposed punishment.

But even that would never be enough.

He could never be properly punished for this, not even hell itself could bring justice to him. He had killed so many people, and never gave it much thought. But this horrible crime, to kill someone so innocent as her, he killed his Lizzie. He left Agnes motherless, and with Tom. If she could have been at a proper hospital, she would be here right now, happy with her husband and daughter, and she could scream and tell him how much she hated him, because her eternal anger was so much better than her eternal silence.

He would gladly keep whatever she left behind. He would gladly keep anything he could of hers. The pain she left him, he would cherish it. He hoped he would never lose the bruises she left behind. 

If she hadn’t had to run from so many enemies he had brought, everything would be fine. She would be fine. 

But that wasn’t the case. He hadn’t been able to get her to help in time, he hadn’t had the right equipment for her, he hadn’t kept her safe. And now she was dead. Her blood forever stained red on his hands, the same hands that only ever wanted to just hold her, had unknowingly participated in handing her, her death- 

He was such a fool, to think he could protect her, to believe that she would let him, that she would understand his desperate need to preserve her. Kate was right. And wasn’t she always?

Elizabeth had every right to hate him. And she most likely died still believing that he was the bane of her existence. She was right. Right to see the truth, and right to go on hating his participation in her life. 

His love could never and would never be reciprocated. How could she love someone that only hurt people, that only ever hurt her? How could she come to care about him? Only in his wildest dreams. 

Everything that had gone wrong for her over the past few years, could easily be traced back to him.

He was a monster.

Killing the one person he loved more than anything.

He had a terrible habit of ruining those he hung around, tainting them, hurting them. All he brought was darkness.

And now he had killed her. She was his light, his reason to be, his only concern, his everything. The only reason he wasn’t already gone.

But, he was gone now.

Left in his own all consuming darkness, no hope of ever seeing light again because his singular ray of light was gone.

He was blind again, in a dark watery cave. Swimming aimlessly, his ugly heart had no hope of being healed now. And really, how could he believe he could ever deserve that, even before he had handed her demise, he deserved every ounce of pain he carried with him.

He kept saying it over and over in his head.

Gone. Dead. 

But it didn’t feel real. How could she just be gone? He was the one that was supposed to die first, never his Lizzie. She was supposed to live a long and happy life without him, happy to finally have him long gone. Because after all, how many times had she wished for him to just go away- 

He needed to disappear, to futilely attempt to quiet the screaming agony in his head. He couldn't continue on much longer if he couldn’t dull his pain somehow- 

Dembe had brought him back to his Bethesda apartment after he had left her in there-

Why had he left her? He should have stayed, he should have told her just how much he loved her, begged her to come back to him because he can’t live without her-

Maybe if he had stayed she would have come back to him-

He couldn’t stand it anymore. He looked over to the clock on his dresser, 1:07am. His confusion at that was evident, he hadn’t been aware of just how long had been here, laying still on top of his bed, still in his vest and shirt, his shoes still on. He sat up, and scanned the room. Dembe sat asleep in the corner of the room, stretched out on the couch. He stood and grabbed a jacket and a pre-packed go bag as he quietly exited his bedroom. He grabbed a pair of keys and a gun off the counter and sat his hat down onto his head.

He left without another thought. Quickly skipping down the stairwell. He was numb. He wasn’t sad, just indifferent. It hadn’t truly set in yet, the fact that he would never hear his name fall off her lips again-

When he got into the black Mercedes he just sat, wondering where to go. Suddenly not able to remember how to get to the opium den he so desperately needed-

“Raymond, I do love-”

Her last words, were to him. She spoke his first name, for the first time he could remember.

And the last.

Why couldn’t she have finished her sentence? Why hadn’t she stayed with him?

He could guess what she was going to say, but believing it was too difficult, too mind bending. 

Too hard to fathom right now. And if that really was what she was going to say to him, it made everything so much worse.

He gripped the steering wheel tighter, pain blooming in his knuckles.

It was starting to become more real, and the brief period of numbness was beginning to pass.

He was desperate not to lose control over himself, control over his own mind was the only thing he had left, so he urgently clung to it.

He had to get out of this parking lot before Dembe found him and kept him away from his mind-killing cure.

He began to try and convince himself that it couldn’t be true. That the notion that she was going to say “Raymond, I do love you.” was ridiculous.

Even though he wished more than anything, that it was true.

But at this moment he needed for it not to be true.

He couldn’t handle that right now.

He was so conflicted, desperate to have confirmation that she loved him back, but desperate to keep himself protected.

He rarely made a habit of talking to himself, even when he was alone.  
But he decided to make an exception.

Even if he seemed insane to himself, talking to himself in a dark car, at one in the morning.

“It’s nonsense. She was out of her mind on drugs, and she had expressed more than once today, er, yesterday,”

He corrected himself, even though no one was around to hear his slip.

“-How she felt about me. She has made her feelings clear. It’s all clear.” His voice broke and he could no longer hold himself together.

He didn’t have breakdowns, he was too numb anymore to have those. Tears never came to him.

After the death of his family and the subsequent years spent seeking revenge for them on the Cabal, he didn’t feel things anymore.

He had been numb for so long. He had seen too much and was now calloused. Broken beyond repair. Killing anyone that came his way. The only thing he had left was the memories to drive him, the memories of his daughter bleeding out in his arms, his wife's cold body limp on the floor.

But he cried now.

And somehow, he broke more. How much more damage could his soul take, until he snapped?

He could feel his soul shattering as he began sobbing, inconsolable. He hit the steering wheel.

And screamed. Nothing in particular, just letting his vocal cords choose what sound to emit.

He roared, pumping his fist back and forth, reveling in the pain.

Needing some way to release the pressure building inside of him. He screamed and punched the wheel of the car until he was lightheaded, until he could no longer breath.

He leaned his head back, letting it come in contact with the leather headrest. He squeezed his eyes shut, more tears rolling down his cheeks. 

The shuddering sobs came faster as he had the sudden realization he had killed the woman he loved, again. For the second time in his life, just his mere presence in his loved ones life, had been their downfall. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind a part of him scolded him, telling him that Elizabeth had really died of natural causes, that he couldn’t have done anything.

But if he had just planned better, if he had only had everything that she needed, or played the ambulance shell game better, if he had only shot Solomon when he had the chance on that damn plane-

His breathing was fast and unsteady, suspiciously close to a panic attack. In a futile attempt to run from his feelings, he took the car out of park, and raced down the street, tears blinding his view of the speedometer. 

He wasn’t sure where he was driving but all he knew was that it felt good, like a release, to press the pedal down as far as it would go, to feel the combustion in the engine rise and fall in speed with the fluctuation of his foot.

Control felt good. He poured all his anger out into the car, resisting the urge to shoot the first person he saw. He cranked up the radio to drown out his thoughts. His eyes were red and dry, but at least he had been able to stop sobbing. 

He needed to get to a den. And needed to get there now. 

Dembe would be furious when he eventually found him, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

When he finally got to the old Chinese restaurant it took minimal cash to get himself a needle, and a bed.

Meihui, the older lady that ran the establishment, guided him to a bunk. He had known her for quite some time. So he took no offence when she commented in mandarin,

“You look like hell Mister Red.” While taking his gun, hat, and shoes. 

He took the needle without hesitation, gently guiding it to his skin, and laid back as the world faded away. His pain was only slightly dulled by his newfound state, but it was better than nothing. 

He had no concept of time as he took needle after needle, not stopping to consider if he could handle another hit. He didn’t care.

It didn’t matter.

At this point it might just be better if he disappeared. And for that matter, he probably would have had it not been for Meihui, who cut him off after only five. She gave him time to come out of the effects of the drug before insisting that he go and recover. 

He was quickly ushered out then, Meihui taking the liberty to put his shoes on him. He just stared blankly when Meihui had asked him why he was here. She looked up to him, eventually accepting his silence as an answer.

His heart clenched in his chest, his skin pale and clammy. He wanted more than anything to just stay in the dark, humid basement and let himself waste away. Not caring who found him. If he got killed so be it.

He had nothing left now.

He watched as Meihui disappeared, going to get his hat and gun. The bunks were empty, the silence deafening. He fixated on the red tinted curtains that hung over the basement widows. They looked familiar. He was sure he had seen a similar set in a department store once when he was with-

Lizzie.

His breath hitched. It came back shaky and painful, his jaw clenching.

She had been happy then. And that had made him happy.

It was a foolish request really. He was genuinely surprised when she had accepted his invite. He had asked her out to coffee, and they had ended up walking around, in search of a new comforter for her bed. It wasn’t work related, and it felt wonderful.

Even as she had commented that Tom wouldn’t want this set because it would be too hot for him, or that blue didn’t match the theme of their room. He quickly swept his pain aside, keeping his mask firmly in place.

It had to just be enough to be with her. As an acquaintance. Or a friend.

And ignoring his dull pain was surprisingly easy, because she was happy. That was the only thing he wanted.

It was impossibly hard to ignore the smile that came to her face when she had started to tell a story, the one time Tom had woken her up, sleepwalking, and tried to throw his phone in the kitchen garbage can mumbling something about water being sharp. She had started giggling uncontrollably, bent over in front of the various coffee tables scattered around the showroom.

Her laughter was his favorite sound.

Was.

If he could just hold her, he could stay afloat, he could keep himself from drowning. If he could only hold her, she would keep his head from going under. 

He felt so inarguably empty as silent tears streamed down his cheek.

Every memory he could think of was somehow tainted with her.

The pain was horrifying.  
This nightmare was horrifying.  
Her death was horrifying.

Her cold hand clenched in his as he delicately kissed her permanently closed ice blue eyes, was absolutely horrifying.

He shakily stood, leaning against the unoccupied bunk. As he stood, his gaze focused in on the table to the far left, three more empty syringes sitting beside a large sized bottle of morphine. He stumbled over to them, and shoved them in his jacket.


	2. Caught Up In You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Red travels to Cape May he reflects on Liz's love of 80's music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song for this chapter is 'Caught Up In You' by 38 Special linked below.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=12H6-0EZ8lA
> 
> I really like the idea of exploring Red's memories of when he was younger and the fact that he boxes and likes some old classic rock favorites is a personal headcanon of mine. This is a lighter chapter, before we dive head first into some thick stuff.
> 
> I will admit, I am struggling a lot with this book. I'm stuck on chapter four and I can feel myself losing momentum after just getting back from Winter break. I need some love guys and or advice on what visions you guys can see for this book. I honestly am struggling so hard and I don't even know if anyone is reading this thing lol. This is my SOS, heh. 
> 
> (ಥ-ಥ) ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own 'The Blacklist' or any of the shows characters. Do not read this book if you could be triggered by any of the things listed in the tags or the first chapters notes. Keep safe guys. Love you all.

A few moments after he had returned to the bunk to sit down, still dizzy, Meihui returned. She held his gun and hat in her weathered fists. She shoved them at him and he just stared blankly. He reached for his hat and quickly left, staggering to shut the heavy metal door in the middle of Meihui’s sentence,

“Wait, Mister Red you forgot your-”

He walked over to the black car, some small part of him happy to see it hadn’t been stolen with his go bag and cash still in it. He grabbed the go bag from the back and started walking aimlessly. He figured it was best to leave the car, so Dembe couldn’t track him.

He needed to be alone.

Every step he took a new memory of her resurfaced, a different picture of her he had perfectly memorized. Her soft citrus scented hair softly cascading down her back, her long eyelashes caught in the sun. Her ice blue eyes that stared right through him. Her ability to surprise him like no one else could, to knock him off his feet. Her fiery personality that drew him in and left him defenseless, the burns he willingly took from her.

He wasn’t even aware he was in danger of vehicular homicide until a car horn had brought him away from his stupor. 

“Are you tryna to get yourself killed?!?!”

He looked up lethargically at the car that had almost just run him over, taking in his surroundings for the first time.

He was standing in the middle of the street, no crosswalk in sight. The traffic light above him was green indicating for all the people now piled up behind the car that had almost hit him to go about their day.

They all honked angrily, not having the patience or time for some senile seeming old man. He looked at the car closer, a sign in the window read,   
“Taxi 4 Hire.”

The car had New York plates, and the only person inside the car was the cabbie himself.

Red rounded the corner and clambered into the cab. 

“Cape May. Cape May, New Jersey.” 

The cabbie turned in his seat to stare dumbfounded at Red. 

“Mister that is over 200 miles-” The cabbie was cut short by Red unzipping his bag and pulling out a wad of hundreds.

The cabbie's eyes widened as Red counted out five bills and placed them on the front console. The cabbie swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and then back down. He cleared his throat and swiveled around again, taking the car out of park. 

“Cape May it is.”

The four hour drive was quiet. The cabbie tried to make conversation for the first thirty minutes of their drive while he swerved through the D.C traffic, but quickly realized the man in the backseat of his car was not going to talk back.

Red was too occupied with keeping his thoughts at bay, an ever raging war in his mind. He kept his gaze fixated on a singular point out the window, watching everything that passed under his survey with disinterest.

His body was sore, and weak. He occasionally trembled involuntarily as the cold nipped at him.

He didn’t notice as the cabbie turned off the freeway just as they passed the New Jersey border and into the first New Jersey town.

The gas station was relatively empty but was situated next to a restaurant, hotel and store. It had graffiti all over the brick walls of the building. Red got out to stretch as the cabbie went inside the building to wash up. They had been driving for roughly three hours.

Red stopped the cabbie as he came back out of the restroom. 

“How much for the cab?”  
“Oh, you’re fine-”  
“How much to buy the cab?”  
“You can’t seriously-”

Red pulled out more hundreds and kept stacking, not bothering to count the cash. The cabbie stopped him, still just as confused as ever.

“That’s enough.” He held a hand out and stopped Red before he gave away all his cash.

Without another word Red took what remained in his go bag and left.

He was happy to drive again.

He still had no clue where he was going however. Why he had chosen Cape May as his destination he didn’t exactly know.

It was an odd choice, but out of the way of his usual spots. Dembe would have a hard time finding him unless he explicitly wanted to be found.

He messed around with the radio, checking station after station for a decent melody for him to get lost in.

He stopped when he heard Kanas ‘Carry on Wayward Son’ come on. A small pained smile came to his face.

Lizzie loved 80’s ballads.

He could imagine her sitting next to him right now, with a smile on her face as she belted out the chorus, staring out the window. He remembered the night when she had shown him her favorite playlist.

He had come late to her house, for really no reason at all. Just to see her after a rough day of meetings. He had knocked on her door, worried she would turn him away, that she would be angry with him for imposing himself on her life, more than he already had. That she would be upset at him from crossing the line she had previously drawn in the sand. 

He waited and was just about to leave, cursing himself for giving into his need for comfort, when he heard her voice from inside her flat. It was melodic, if slightly off key.

His curiosity got the better of him and within two seconds of picking the lock he was standing in her doorway. He peaked around the corner quietly, calling after her, no response.

That was until he saw her out of the corner of his eye, washing dishes. Her back was turned to him and she was singing what he recognized as ‘More than a Feeling.’ by Boston.

She was barefoot, her hair up in a messy bun and was having the time of her life with her private little concert.

He had watched for a moment, fascination on his face. She was so beautiful, and there was something wonderfully domestic about seeing her with her guard down, blissfully going about her night dancing barefoot in her kitchen.

He finally stepped out to where she could see him, not wanting her to catch him looking like the main subject matter from the song ‘Every Breath You Take’ by the Police. No doubt another of her favorites based on what little he now knew about her taste in music. 

She jumped, a steady stream of curses spilling past her lips. She tore her earbuds out and walked up to him, their chests mere inches apart, looking up to him challengingly. Her face was bright red. She had meant to be intimidating but her chin barely came to his shoulder and he instead found her to be quite endearing. 

“What the Hell are you doing here Red!? How long have you been standing there?!” He gave a burst of laughter and tried to explain himself. Only to get an annoyed eye roll and exasperated scoff. 

A conversation ensued, him challenging her musical taste. Subtly begging to get to know more about her. She had started her playlist for him while he helped her finish cleaning up the kitchen.

She had griped the entire time at him helping clean, but he just shushed her as he tried to focus on her music.

90% of her playlist was 80’s power ballads, and though she tried her best not to, after not knowing just how long he had listened to her sing, she couldn’t stop herself from mumbling along.

He was alarmed to find himself immediately thinking of her when ‘Caught up in You’ by 38 special had started playing through her speakers.

It described perfectly how he felt.

He was caught up in her every move. As corny as it was, he had always been so sure he would never fall again after his wife died all those years ago, but here he was.

For the longest time, he had never been willingly to become dedicated to a woman.

One night stands and games were all his love life consisted of. Including the very intriguing game that is Madeline Pratt. But after Lizzie, all the games could no longer hold his attention. 

She was the main object of his attention.

He found it to be so sweet and enduring as he watched her start opening up more and more as the night went along, her becoming less and less afraid to sing along in his presence. He even found himself quietly mumbling along with her for the songs he knew.

The 80’s was the last generation of music he really knew, and he did have some favorites. The last decade before he was on run and no longer had time for music in his Walkman when he went for his morning runs, or for when sparred with his Navy buddies in his spare time on his ship.

His boxing nickname was Seadog, an inside joke between all of his friends. This was because he was shorter than most everyone else, but he had good stamina, wearing down his opponent with well placed shots while letting them lose all their energy in the first few rounds of their fake little boxing matches.

Taking his sweet time and storing his aggression to carry him through when he doggedly finished the fight. Persistence and tenacity were his biggest allies in the Navy. Both for practical and recreational purposes.

To be honest however, as much as he loved boxing, he still sparred whenever he got the chance, ammunition did have a much better and more convenient kick to it. 

His workout tapes that carried him through the hard months on the ship, far away from his wife and daughter, helped him keep that persistence and determination alive. Rekindling the fire within whenever he would wonder what the point was to go on. Whitesnake, Mötley Crüe, Journey, Foreigner, Aerosmith, and The Rolling Stones all came to mind when he tried to remember his various old cassettes.

He didn’t listen to most of his old favorites anymore, he felt it to be too painful.

The man that had once listened to those songs, teasingly singing to his wife in the kitchen along with the radio, would never recognize the man he saw in the mirror now. He would be horrified of himself. 

He could still remember those pivotal moments in his life when certain songs he could now never forget, had provided a background, something to hold on to while he went about his days. 

Driving Daniella and a newborn baby Adeline home from the hospital, nervous to death of being a father, with Pat Benatar playing on the car’s old radio.

A completely unrelated song to what was then happening in his life, but one part of the memory came in tangent with the other, inseparable in his mind.

He didn’t mind however hearing them now, Lizzies voice working over the original recordings, calming the torrent of emotions that usually came with memories of his past life. He instead focused on her. Allowing himself to get lost in her voice, to focus on nothing but the present.   
She made it easy for him to deal with his pain.

Elizabeth had looked like everything she had once known about him was going up in flames when he started to hum Warrant’s ‘Heaven’ quietly while he dusted in the living room.

He had accidentally started to sing the chorus too loudly, knowing it by heart, and she had heard his dark, rich, voice mix in almost immediately. Contrasting greatly with her own sweet, softer, and considerably higher voice.

Her expression was horrified, as if he wasn’t allowed to already know the song let alone know it well enough to sing the baritone/bass key of it.

It soon softened into humor however as he simply went on half lip syncing, half humming to the second verse while she peppered him with questions. Trying his best to ignore her shock and taking small pleasure in surprising her with his music knowledge, if not a little offended at how little she thought he knew of his own generations music. 

“WAIT!! You know this song?! But I thought that you didn’t know rock music, I thought you only listened to Jazz and-”

“Lizzie I was in my twenties during the eighties. So I’m bound to have some favorites. Also it is technically a ballad not classic rock. There is an important distinction to be made there Elizabeth.”

She had just laughed just shaking her head and staring at him with something close to wonder. It made him feel giddy, like a boy that had just made his crush laugh in homeroom. 

“So one of your favorites is a love song by Warrant? Does this mean you like ‘Cherry Pie’ too?” 

She almost had to stop mid sentence just to regain her composure, to keep herself from laughing hysterically at him. At the absurd thought of Raymond Reddington singing along to such a raunchy song as ‘Cherry Pie.’

He had to admit that even he had to laugh at that thought. 

That night was one of his favorite memories of them together by far.


	3. Surrender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter is Surrender by Natalie Taylor. Here is the link...
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JNKjudIKkLg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the main chapter that gives this entire thing a massive suicide and drug use trigger warning. If reading anything to do with these triggers could put you in a bad place, DO NOT READ IT. I want all you amazing people to be safe and happy. This is probably the heaviest, most angst filled chapter I have even dreamed up, as of yet. (Knowing me it probably won't be the last...) I am posting this a day early because tomorrow I am going on a road trip and won't have time to post. Thank you all for reading and stay safe! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own The Blacklist or it's characters nor do I make any money off of my stories. Enjoy!
> 
> If you are going through a rough time and you are thinking of hurting yourself, please know that there are people that love you and need you. Suicide is not the only way out. Please call this suicide prevention line if you need help or someone to talk to. Help is here for you. All you have to do is call. National suicide prevention hotline: 800-273-8255.

The dinner he stopped at was mainly empty, which was the reason Red chose it. He was starving after the long drive, and he still didn’t know how long he had gone without food.

He hadn’t a clue what day it was, or how long he had been otherwise intoxicated.

He dug into his food, not saying a word to the waitress. She had just looked at him skeptically before walking off with a half empty coffee pot in hand.

He sat for a long while, his thoughts numb. No longer filled with memories of her, but of just white noise.

He observed every car that passed by outside, it’s color, model, and what little he could distinguish from each license plate before it disappeared down the street. Cataloging each car in his brain, filing each piece of information away in the back of his mind. Placing it in a dark, damp, dusty corner room in the labyrinth of his head. Never to be used again, only to collect cobwebs and dust and be, quite literally, forgotten.

His attention was taken away from the large bay window by the sound of a small clock, chiming on the wall opposite his booth. It signaled the change of the hour, it was now 4pm in the small coastal town.

Placing 2 twenty dollar bills under his coffee cup, Red stood and grabbed his hat to leave the small diner, but as his eyes traveled up to the corner booth in front of him, he froze.

Only a second ago the booth was empty, but it was now occupied by a woman, roughly in her thirties, with dark brown hair cascading over her jacket clad shoulders. Her back was to him, but Red felt he was going to faint when she turned her head, ice blue eyes locking with Raymond. 

“Lizzie?”

He croaked it aloud, not aware at first that he had spoken his thoughts.

He was leaning heavily against the booth, and his hat hit the booth’s cushion with a soft thud as he stepped forward, tentatively approaching the small corner booth his eyes were fixated on.

He sat, the soft cushion dipping under the newfound weight. The woman studied him carefully, scrutinizing every feature in his hope filled face.

“Hey Red.”

She spoke softly, a kind smile coming to her face. Relief flooded every pore of his being because she was here, with him, and she was alive-

He leaned forward, ready to envelope her in his arms, and never let go again. Because his Lizzie was alive, and he would never let any harm come to her ever again- 

Only for his arms to harmlessly slash through her body, as if she was made of nothing more than air. He watched in horror as his Lizzie faded away in front of him. He grabbed helplessly at her scarred wrist, desperate to make her stay.

Only for it to slip through his fingers. 

“Lizzie? Lizzie?!”

He distraughtly yelled for her to come back. How could she leave him again-

“Sir? Are you alright?”

He jumped at the hand on his shoulder, flipping around in the vinyl seat. He forgot he was in a public place.

Was he losing his mind?

The waitress stood with a weary expression on her pinched face, a family of six waiting behind her. Presumably waiting for the booth Raymond was now in.

He flushed, aware he probably looked like a senile old man that had just had a psychotic break.

He stood quickly, walking past his old booth to grab his hat. He kept walking, ignoring the odd looks he received as he rushed through the restaurant's back door. He walked briskly to his car out front, hands in his coat pockets and head down.

He sat in his car, horror still plastered on his face. His hands were shaking on the steering wheel, his breath shallow.

His mind was failing him.

But she had seemed so real, and she just as beautiful as he remembered-

He just wanted to wake up, to realize it was all a horrid dream, that he could go back to her rolling her eyes at him, because she was fine then.

It was all fine.

He was going insane. Hallucinating his dead love.

And in the process make himself look a fool in public.  
One question continued to circulate over and over in his mind. 

He loved her to no end, but, did she love him back? 

He took a deep breath, not exactly sure where he was going to spend the night. He started driving towards the docks, knowing he was bound to stumble on some kind of empty beach house if he looked hard enough.

It was well past the season for tourists and the town of Cape May, New Jersey was quiet. Just what Red needed. He passed a modest beach house, the sea only a few steps beyond the houses’ back deck.

He parked the car around the side of it and walked through the back gate. The property seemed long abandoned, perfect to ‘borrow’.

Go bag in hand, Red picked the lock to the back door.

There was at least an inch of dust covering much of the house, and most of the furniture was covered in plastic. It would be a good place to hide away. Dropping his bag in a random room on the first floor, Red stripped off his jacket, vest, hat, and socks. He kicked off his shoes and walked back out to the sand.

Picking a random chair out of a pile on the side of the house, he walked out to a spot on the sand, near the sea.

The sea. His home. Or what used to be his home.

The ocean reminded him now of the strange chain of events that had brought him to find his refuge in the ocean. How his mother had died of breast cancer when he was 15, and how his father had subsequently sent him off to a military boarding school only a week after her funeral.

Looking back it was probably for the best, even if the academy was a nightmare where physical discipline was still enforced, it was leagues better than his fathers relentless beatings.

If he had stayed with his father he had no doubt that they would have killed each other.

Raymond resented his father, for beating on his mother, and for making his life a living hell.

If his father had even curled his fist at Raymond after his mother died, he would have beat the snot out of the old man. Repercussions be damned. The only reason for taking his beatings in the past, was that if he didn’t let his father get all his energy out on Raymond he would turn to his mother, Judith Reddington.

And she never protested his fathers swings.

Whenever Howard Reddington got angry, he was a force to be reckoned with. His mom knew that, and being a frail, sick woman she knew better than to fight back.

Red figured he got his murderous tendencies from Howard, the bastard. 

But the Transverse City Military Academy for Troubled Boys did give him the chance to be free, something he never had in McBain, Michigan.

It gave him a taste of what life in the Navy could be like, the wide open ocean, traveling the world, and staying far away from everyone he knew. And he soon began to crave that freedom.   
The last time he ever saw his father was when he was 24 years old, fresh out of Naval Academy.

He was top of his class, ranking high in an aptitude to go into counterintelligence and spy work. 

His father had attended his ceremony. When Howard had tried to impose himself on Red, he had told his father that he wanted nothing to do with him. 

Howard had swung at Raymond's nose, poised to break it as he had done at least once as a child, but it never connected. 

Red had simply stepped back, seeing the punch coming, and his father had lost his balance. Falling to the cement.

Raymond left him lying there, and his father had simply watched him leave to go drink with the rest of his seaman in shock, as if it was a surprise that the son he sent off into the military had better reflexes than a 50 year old man.

Red had wanted more than anything to use all the strength he had painfully acquired over the hellish years in the boarding school, still brimming with grief and anger as he father sent him away, to beat the ever living shit out of Howard. To use everything he had, to place everything he had behind just one punch. But he had heard his mother before he could cock his fist, the last words she had ever spoken to him making his anger fizzle out. 

“Make me proud Ray.”

With that, he was able to walk away from his father. Howard was probably dead by now. Red didn’t care to check. 

That was back when he could still do his mom justice, still make her proud of him. When he could still do the right thing.

However he was sure that now she was disgusted with him, that he made her sick. That he was a disgrace to the Reddington name. He was sure that he no longer had his mother’s angel watching over him, guiding him.

He wondered what Howard had thought when he saw his son’s wanted poster on his old box TV, what had gone through his head.

Probably, “I knew it.”

Even if his father had known the entire story, even if he was somehow able to understand what Red had come home to that night his files had been stolen, he still wouldn’t understand.

Because Red proved his father right, and demonstrated just how wrong his mom had been. He had never been a ‘good boy.’

Even if it took the slaughter of his family and subsequent erasure of said slaughter for him to show his true colors.

His dad was right. 

The ocean and Navy had been his new start. Disowning his father had been the only step between him, and freedom. And he had done it. Rid himself of his past. The ocean became his home.

It made him sick when he had to run from it, and sicker still when he never got to take his daughter to see it. 

The waves lapped at the sand, probably close to freezing temperature. As he sat in the old fold up chair, the sand underneath it settled, grinding past the metal feet of his seat as the tiny grains compacted in on themselves.

The sand felt good on his feet, giving himself something to be distracted by. He looked out to the horizon, and closed his eyes. Nothing but anguish came. He didn’t know how he could live with the pain he held inside, how he could ever be ok again.

Somehow he knew she would be there, when he opened his eyes. He knew his brain was paying cruel tricks on him, giving him the only thing he could ever want before yanking it away. 

He was right.

She was standing on the beach a few yards ahead of him, her hair in a messy bun, and her body clothed in a flowy and light dress.

She looked happy. He felt like throwing up.

He stood and walked to her, and when she saw him she ran to him, jumping in his arms, meeting him halfway. This time he could touch her, and could feel her porcelain skin. He took full advantage of it before she faded away.

She had literally jumped in his arms, throwing her arms around his neck, resting her chin on his shoulder.

Something she would never do in real life.

Her feet came up to her lower back, and he could see that she was also barefoot.

He had this dream so many times, holding her on the beach, her accepting his love, her loving him back.

It was haunting now.

He was thrumming with anxiety, not knowing how he was going to keep from falling to pieces when she left him again. Not knowing how he could live without her. How he could stay here, in this literal hell, while she was gone.

Forever.

He kissed the top of her head, moving down her neck and shoulder. She kissed his neck and jaw before planting her feet in the sand and cupping his face.

She looked so carefree and light, while he felt so weighed and anguished. Would he be this light if he were dead? 

“Red.”

“Lizzie, please don’t go, I can’t, I can’t go on without-”

She moved into the crook of his neck and pressed a few more kisses there. Her hands held the back of his head, her palm lightly scraping his scalp. She gave a few soft “shh's” comforting him.

He relaxed in her arms, eyes closing as he took in her scent, desperate to have some part of her to remember.

His tears rolled into her hair and she pulled back.

Her arms fell to her sides as she stepped back from him. He reached out to pull her back into him, but the scene changed around them. Red found himself standing in his mobile medical unit’s tent, a club around them. Lizzie was laying on the medical bed in front of him.

Her eyes were drooping. She was about to fall asleep. He didn’t want to let go. His hand gripped hers tightly as tears openly ran down his face, leaving him a mess.

He knew now that she wasn’t coming back to him. 

“Lizzie, wait, no, please don’t go Lizzie stay awake for me, please sweetheart. Lizzie I love you, please don’t leave me again. I can’t keep-”

She cut him off, her voice just as worn.

He was panicking, trying to think of some way to keep her safe, if they left here right now they could give Solomon the slip, he could save her- 

“Raymond, I do love-” She gulped, and her eyes conveyed how scared she was. He had to get her out of here-

“I do love you.”

He jolted awake, almost falling out of his beach chair and into the ocean. It was dark outside, and the tide had come up. The water was ankle high, and the moon shone brightly above the briny water.

He had let her go. Again. 

His breathing was frantic, spurred on by the freezing water.

Tears stung his eyes, the salty mixture combining with the ocean below him. He was starting to hyperventilate.

He needed her. He couldn’t go on without her. He had nothing left here.

She was gone and now so was he. She had died and now, so might as well he.

He had never wanted everything to fade away, for him to go gentle into that good night, as much as he did right now.

He stood, and took a few minutes to calm himself as he leaned over the flimsy chair before folding it up and putting it back in it’s pile. 

He walked through the empty beach house with a comfortable numbness settling over him.

His tears stopped, as did his thoughts. Autopilot taking over. 

He walked into his room and stripped of his clothes. He went about changing the old bedding, and set out clothes to change into on top of the chair his jacket was slung over.

Still naked, Red flitted across the house to a bathtub. He turned the handle, half expecting no water to come out.

Luckily it did.

The freezing water washed all the sand and salt off of him, and he disinterestedly watched as the grime swirled down the drain. He stood under the stream until he was violently convulsing, his body weakly trying to generate heat.

He felt as though he was just watching his own life go by as a bystander. Like it really wasn’t his life at all. Like he was just a helpless spectator.

He stepped out of the shower and staggered back across the house to his room. He swiped his clothes off the back of the desk chair and threw them on haphazardly, his tee shirt on backwards.

As he turned back to the chair, he noticed a lump in his jacket pocket. He curiously reached in, not remembering what he had placed in there. He pulled an empty syringe out of the pocket.

He took a moment to stare at it, his gaze distant, as his mind completely cleared for the first time in what felt like weeks.

He looked up at his reflection in the dust covered vanity mirror. He looked tired. Thin. Hollow.

He looked back down at the syringe before making his decision.

He gingerly pulled the bottle out of the opposite pocket.

He pierced the top of the small bottle, and pulled gently on the plunger. He filled the needle to his regular measure, and stopped himself.

He took a deep breath, suddenly uneasy with his plan. He looked back up to the vanity mirror as his thoughts turned to everything he had lost.

Lizzie was dead. And he held the blame for her death. He had no way forward, no way to continue now that she was gone.

He would never be a part of Agnes' life.

He would not return to the taskforce again, not without her there. And because he couldn’t be there without her, the government’s deal would no longer stand. He would have to run again. 

He was so tired of running.

He was just so tired.

But what about Dembe? Kate? What would his Lizzie want him to do?

He looked back down to the syringe, and closed his eyes.

It was childish, and cowardly. But it didn’t matter.

He was going to be in some form of hell either way.

He would die, or he wouldn’t. He honestly didn’t care either way. He tugged the plunger an indeterminate measurement farther than his normal line.

He was playing russian roulette with a needle.

He opened his eyes, keeping the measured side of the plastic down.

He hurriedly took the hit, before he had the chance to stop himself.

As he laid back in the bed there was no anxiety. Only the complete absence of any feeling. His mind filled with memories of Lizzie, and with that he closed his eyes.

Content that if today was his last day, that his last thoughts would be of her.

He knew he wasn’t going to heaven, where she surely resided.

But that’s alright. Besides, for all he knew there was no divide between souls, and he could see her again.

It was a desperate gamble, but anything was better than here. With no chance of ever seeing her again. It was a risk he could take.

So, he relaxed, letting fate take his breath if it so desired. He was surrendering.


	4. Chapter 4 (send me any songs that fit for a title)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't able to think of any ideas for this chapter title or song lyrics. If you have a song you can think of that you think could fit, send it in the comments and I will take a look!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For simplicity sake, pretend Tom left for Cuba with Agnes right after the funeral. No one notices due to the fact that no one can find Red and they are all too preoccupied with looking for him to really notice. Thank you so much for continuing to read, even after last chapter. Be safe everyone, and I love you all! Things get slightly less angsty from here on.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the Blacklist or its characters, and I make no profit off of my stories.

It was dark, and damp in his apartment.

His curtains were drawn, the dusk colored light barely filtering through his windows. It felt empty. He felt empty.

Two days after the funeral, Aram just felt nothing. Samar had left only a few hours ago, having said she needed some time to herself. He understood that.

And if he was honest with himself he needed some alone time too. To process.

It helped to just hold Samar, to feel her take deep breaths as she pressed up against his chest. 

To be able to tell her how much he loved her and to hear her say it back. That they could grieve and move on together.

But it also helped to remove himself from Samar, to take himself out of his comfort zone so his brain could take the time to reel, so he could take the time to be angry, and to just be miserable.

So here he sat, sprawled across his couch in the dark.

He knew he should eat some dinner, it was almost eight o’clock after all, but he couldn’t get himself to move.

His mind drifted aimlessly, rolling around in the events of the past week and a half.

The funeral was still extremely potent in his mind. He counted off the list of who all he had seen there in his mind before coming to a strange conclusion.

He hadn’t seen Mr. Reddington there. In fact, he hadn’t heard from Reddington at all. No one had.

The last thing he had heard of Reddington was from what Agent Ressler had told him he saw in the back of that ambulance.

Ress had described with some difficulty how Reddington was hunched over Liz’s body, just holding her. Donald had tears in his eyes when he explained how Red had just pressed small kisses to her lifeless face. Horror and shock on Red’s face. He basically had to be dragged out of the ambulance before anyone else came, and collapsed getting into his car.

No one had seen him since. None of Reddington’s associates had contacted the task force, and everyone had been so preoccupied with their grief that no one had cared to contact Mr. Reddington.

Satisfied that he had found something new to hyper-focus on, to distract him from his grief, Aram let his mind start calculating his questions.

Why wouldn’t Mr. Reddington go to Liz’s funeral? It didn’t make any logical sense as to why he wouldn’t go. Aram was sure Red wouldn’t care about being seen. He was confidant Mr. Reddington would want to say goodbye, consequences be damned.

Reddington must be going through hell, even someone as callused as him would be hit hard by the death of a loved one. Especially Liz.

He loved her so much, no one in the Post Office could deny that.

Well, everyone apart from Liz.

The way he sometimes caught Red looking at Liz, he loved her. Romantically. There was no other possibility. The way he would so willingly give up his life for Liz, the way he looked at her, the way he spoke to her. The man was smitten.

Liz looked at Red the same way, her eyes tended to focus on Reddington’s lips as he talked, staring off into space. Her eyes also like to gravitate lower, she had on numerous times openly gaped at his ass. 

Everyone other than Liz and Red noticed the sexual tension between them. Or maybe they did notice. 

It could be plausible that they just didn’t want to acknowledge their growing feelings for one another, worried of rejection, upheaval of Liz’s life with Tom, or not wanting to become vulnerable.

They were so natural with one another when they allowed themselves to be, when they posed as a couple in Op’s, or when they allowed each other to genuinely enjoy the other's company.

It was infuriating to watch them dance around each other.

They didn’t have a clue. And now it was too late.

Aram couldn’t imagine that, watching the woman you love slowly fade from life as you watched, helpless.

If he lost Samar that way, he didn’t know how he could get through that.

Ressler had blamed Reddington for Liz’s death, as did some of the other guys on the I.T team. Aram wondered if Reddington blamed himself for Liz’s death.

Aram didn’t.

Mr. Reddington had done everything he could to keep Liz and Agnes safe, even if the woman he loved was having another man's baby and marrying him on the same day.

Aram’s stomach growled, interrupting his musings. He finally gave into it’s protests.

Standing, he padded across his apartment, tripping on his bike and almost falling face first into it.

He microwaved some Lo Mein from a few nights ago and was just about to sit back down on his couch when he heard a knock at his door, startling him awake.

His brow was furrowed as he peaked around his corner, staring at his door. He sat his Lo Mein back down, wondering who it could be.

Looking through his peep hole he just about had a heart attack.

Outside his apartment door stood Mr. Kaplan, and Dembe. He noted however he didn’t see Mr. Reddington. He also noticed the gun concealed on Dembe’s belt.

He unlocked his door chain and tentatively swung the door open, feeling very undressed in his jacket and sweatpants to be conversing with two of the FBI’s most wanted’s right hands.

He looked expectantly at the two through the crack in his door a nervous smile on his face. 

“Mr. Zuma, Mr. Kaplan.” His voice sounded unsteady, like he was shaking. Evidently he sort of was. 

“Agent Mojtabai. How are you? May we come in?” Kaplan spoke professionally, a no nonsense air about her as per usual. Giving a slightly nervous “Sure” in return, he opened the door, stepping aside. Aram closed his door, with a gulp, not exactly sure what he was getting himself into.

He knew the likelihood Dembe and Kaplan were here to hurt him was unlikely, but that did nothing to calm his nerves.

He also knew he should say something, it was incredibly awkward to be just standing here in the hallway of his trashed apartment. His voice was timid, more so than he had expected. 

“What can I do for-” He spoke all the while entranced by the dust crusted on Dembe’s left shoe, making the worn tan leather cracks seem all the more prominent. But was shortly thereafter cut off by Dembe, who was nervously fidgeting with the side of his pant leg. 

“Raymond is gone.” Aram looked up from Dembe’s shoes, his brow furrowed.

Sensing Aram’s confusion, Mr. Kaplan elaborated while Dembe swallowed, seeming just as high strung as Aram. The calm, cool, collected man Aram had come to know was nowhere in sight, leaving behind this shelled, exposed version of Dembe.

“Mr. Reddington disappeared the night after Elizabeth passed. We have no clue as to where he went. We haven’t been able to find him. We were hoping you could track Raymond’s tracking chip for us.”

Aram took a step back as he considered Mr. Kaplan's request.

Dembe looked like he was trying desperately to keep his composure, clearing his throat every few seconds. It hit Aram just how close Dembe and Mr. Reddington really were. He had seen them together laughing as they had come into the Post Office many times, and had seen the glances they passed to one another as if sharing an inside joke as they went about their day. Dembe was more than just a bodyguard or a driver or a co-worker to Mr. Reddington. They were friends. Close friends.

If Mr. Reddington didn’t at least tell Dembe where he was going, it couldn’t be good.

“Sure. I-I can do that.” Dembe locked eye’s with Aram, and the desperation evident there made Aram shudder. “I will need my laptop from the Post Office, but other than that-”

Dembe cut Aram off again.

“In that case I must insist we leave immediately for the Post Office. You can grab your laptop and track him on the way.”

Aram stopped them as both Kaplan and Dembe began to walk past Aram towards the door.

“Wait, you want me to come with you to get him? Doesn’t that-”

This time it was Mr. Kaplan’s turn to cut Aram off.

“It will be faster that way. He hasn’t left the country, so likelihood is he is still somewhere along the east coast. If it turns out to be longer than a day’s trip we can drop you back off at your apartment if you wish. We will be waiting downstairs for you. Grab what you need.”

Aram watched, mouth still slightly gaping as the door closed behind the two.

He closed his mouth, still standing in his doorway, processing what had just happened.

He opened and closed it one more time, closely resembling a fish. So that would be why Aram hadn’t seen Mr. Reddington at the funeral. 

He mumbled out loud to himself.

“Well, ok then.” He walked towards his room.

He figured he would get into some slightly more professional clothes, a long sleeve and jeans at the very least.

Tying his worn tennis shoes and zipping his jacket back up, it dawned on Aram that he would need Cooper’s permission to access the software to get Mr. Reddington’s coordinates. And Agent Cooper might not like it if Aram had used a backdoor in the security to get the tracking info by himself.

Still sitting on the edge of his grey sheeted bed, Aram figured it was probably important to clear this with his boss.

He would prefer to keep his job.

He thumbed the black phone off his dresser and hit number 4 on his speed dial.

“Aram, what do you need?” Cooper picked up after 3 rings, and Aram wasted no time in telling him the situation. Cooper took some time to mull over the question 

Honestly Aram had never heard Cooper sound so exhausted, though he was doing a good job hiding it.

No one was doing well.

“Alright Aram. If it’s longer than one day’s trip I want you to stay back. This isn’t a sanctioned Op so technically you shouldn’t be allowed to track him. But considering the circumstances and Reddingtons’ proneness to self-destruct without Keen, I will allow it. I can cover up a one time use of the locating software but only once. Report back to me when you have secured a location and when you have him. Be careful Aram. This is thin ice. Good luck.” He hung up without another word.

Aram could almost hear what he thought could be worry in Cooper’s voice for Reddington. But he could just as easily have imagined it. No one knew exactly where they personally stood with Mr. Reddington, the relationship was always complicated.

On one hand, he was a murderer, a wanted terrorist that did everything in his power to keep everyone at arm's length.

Aram suspected that he purposely was rude and annoyed everyone to make sure no bond’s were formed, after all, it was easier to stay protected when no one truly knew you.

The man most definitely had trust issues.

But on the other hand, there were the rare times when you could see through the armor, when you could tell that he was only human.

And losing Liz might just bring him to his knees. Aram wanted to help Mr. Reddington in any way that he could. They way he helped Aram on numerous times, along with the task force. He was a surprisingly decent guy considering Aram had seen him kill people before.

As much as he tried to deny it, Red did care for some people, and he did his best to protect everyone at the Post Office.

He had morals, and knew right from wrong, thus the blacklist. Even if no one could figure out exactly what his Russian Roulette of a moral compass exactly dictated.

He was a complicated person, but Aram didn’t believe he was as evil as he would like for everyone to believe.

There was some good in there.

Aram always tried to believe there was good in everyone.

And with that thought, Aram made his way downstairs, to where two criminals sat waiting on him, to find another criminal.   
\------------------------------------------------

It was 20 minutes after Aram had walked out of his apartment, and he found himself, laptop in hand, standing in the dark Post Office.

He hadn’t been back since the day Liz had died. He found himself to be reminiscing.

He could see Liz and him munching happily on donuts, watching Dr. Phil. The room seemed tinged with damp sadness. 

His phone brought him back to himself, a text from Mr. Kaplan reminding him to come out quickly. 

Walking back out to the tinted Mercedes Aram got to work. As the car grew closer to Aram’s apartment, Aram got a location.

“Mr. Reddington is in Cape May, New Jersey. That’s only a four hour drive, so if you want I can come with.” He mumbled the last part quietly, not wanting to beg to come along.

He found himself wanting to come, helping Mr. Reddington and having the promise of something to focus on other than the intruding memories of Liz was more than appealing. He could use a project of sorts to distract from the numbness that had settled over his body as of late. 

Aram quickly exited out of the program, waiting for an answer and preparing himself to be let down. Looking up to Mr. Kaplan as she and Dembe exchanged a nervous look in front of the cab, deciding what to do. Mr. Kaplan looked back to Aram as Dembe turned the car around, heading towards I-895 having come to a mutual, silent agreement.

“Aram, what are the exact coordinates?”


	5. Chapter 5 (send me any songs that fit for a title)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't able to think of any ideas for this chapter title or song lyrics. If you have a song you can think of that you think could fit, send it in the comments and I will take a look!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a hard chapter to write, and I feel like I didn't deliver very well with this one. I hope that I can make up for that in the next chapter. Thanks to everyone that continues to support this fic and my other works! This is a more serious book but I hope that you all can continue to comment on it. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or The Blacklist. I make no money off of these works.

Four hours later, the Mercedes stopped in front of an abandoned beach house, the ocean just a few steps out the back door.

It was dark, almost midnight now, and the town was quiet and still. 

A car with a taxi sign in it’s window and a New York license plate sat under a worn, grey carport. 

Aram sat and waited for instructions as Dembe and Mr. Kaplan unbuckled from the front and turned around to face Aram.

Dembe took his gun out of the glove compartment box, and loaded it. Dembe spoke as he cocked the gun, a sharp click filling the stale air as the slide snapped back into place. 

“I’m worried Raymond won’t answer for me or Kate. I think he would be more likely to answer to you Aram.” Aram paled, knowing that Dembe was probably right.

He shook his head in confirmation hesitantly and stepped out of the car, Mr. Kaplan and Dembe watching intently from behind tinted windows.

He stepped under the blue and white awning and knocked meekly on the door. No answer. The house was dark, and as still as the night around it.

Various bugs chirped mindlessly in the background, unnerving Aram to no end. 

“Mr. Reddington, it’s me, Aram.” He knocked again, louder this time.

Big deafening booms echoing against the wood door. 

“Mr. Reddington? Dembe and Mr. Kaplan are here with me. We just came to check on you, and see if you are doing ok.” He waited and listened intently, hoping to catch some kind of sound from inside the enclosed space.

He knocked again, knuckles thrumming as he slammed them into the barrier. After an indeterminate time consisting of no sound, he turned back to look at the car and shook his head, brow furrowed in concern.

Dembe exited the car and strode to the door, two lock picks in his hand.

Aram stood to the side as Dembe opened the door and drew his gun, stepping in front of Aram. Aram shouldn’t have been surprised at the ease in which Dembe unlocked the door, but he found himself marveling at how skilled the man in front of him must be at breaking and entering.

Aram followed closely behind, looking around the depicted old beach house.

A front desk stood next to the door they entered through, cobwebs and dust covering the old wood. A large sign hung up above the registry, ‘Jack’s Shack.’ The building looked as though it hadn’t been used in some time, abandoned on the sea shore. Plastic hung off all the furniture as they continued in farther, exploring the depths of the house.

Dembe was nervous, slightly shaking as they stalked around the first floor. He called out periodically as they went about clearing each room, looking for any signs of a struggle or kidnapping.

There was nothing clearly amiss however, the building eerily calm. Every room Dembe checked, Aram flipped on the corresponding light, trying to fight the uneasy darkness surrounding the two level house. 

“Raymond! Raymond it’s me!”

Every panicked call Dembe made was met with silence.

Aram had a terrible feeling in the pit of his gut, not knowing what to expect to find. The floor plan split, the first floor continuing with a set of stairs to the side leading up to the second level. Dembe hiked up the stairs while Aram continued making his way down the hall.

Both continued calling as they went, figuring that they would clear the house faster when splitting up.

Walking forward Aram heard his steps creaking behind him, unsettling him to no end. He could hear Dembe's heavy steps from upstairs, still calling out for their friend.

Aram kept stumbling around in the dark, flipping on light switches as he checked each room. He could hear his heart as he stalked around, his breathing blaring in the quiet.

The dark room he checked next seemed to be a bathroom. It wasn’t until he illuminated the room and the adjacent hall that he noticed sandy and wet footprints sweeping their way to the bathroom tub.

Mr. Reddington had been here earlier.

Aram followed the backwards facing footprints to their origin, a bedroom.

Aram poked his head around the doorframe, his eyes slowly adjusting in the room. It was only after his pupils had dilated that he saw him, laying on top of the covers in a tee shirt and cotton sleeping pants.

His eyes were closed, and he appeared to be sleeping. His face peaceful, arm extended over the edge of the fresh sheet, dangling.

The thought that crossed Aram’s mind, was he looked too peaceful, and fear gripped Aram’s chest as he stepped forward.

“M-Mr. Reddington?” No response. Another step forward. Aram could see his arm clearer now, a purple splotch across the crook of the inside of his elbow.

“Red?” Three more steps forward, and the soft clink of something skittering across the floor as Aram’s toe came in contact with an unknown object.

He tore his gaze from the unconscious man before him to find what his shoe had tapped. He searched the hardwood floor until he saw it. His heart stopped, the pit in his stomach growing. 

It was a needle.

Aram no longer hesitated, eyes wide with realization, as he surged forward, fingers connecting with Mr. Reddington’s neck as he searched for a pulse from beneath a small circular scar over the man's carotid, his skin clammy and cold.

He moved his fingers up and down over the skin there, brushing over the small upraised scar. He couldn’t find any thrum, any sign of a heartbeat, any sign of life. He stepped back, trembling as he raked his eyes over the man’s chest for any movement.

One beat. Nothing.

Two beats. No rise.

Three beats, and there it was.

A small recoil as Red’s lungs shallowly took breath. Red was alive but he needed help. Something was very wrong. Aram didn’t want to think about what he was sure it was that was wrong. Refusing to use the context clues in front of him to put together a clear picture in his mind. The thought that Mr. Reddington would be so distraught that he would-

Aram turned on his heel and ran, careening his way back through the hall to the staircase, yelling for Dembe.

Dembe met him halfway, running down the stairs. And with a panicked look asked, 

“Where is he?”

Aram flipped back around without a word and led the way.

Entering the room, Dembe went ahead of Aram, not hesitating to go to Reds side.

“Raymond? Raymond?! Brother wake up. Ray!” Dembe shook his stiff body, only to find him unresponsive.

His large hands moved to Red’s wrists, two fingers resting gently over his veins. Aram wasn’t sure what he found. 

Aram still stood, dumbstruck. How could it be that Raymond Reddington, the most confident man Aram had ever met, the larger than life figure Aram feared and respected so much could do-

“Aram. Go out to Mr. Kaplan. Tell her to find the closest location for a *77 she can. I will be out with Raymond in just a second. Your driving. Go.” Dembe’s voice broke and shook as Aram took a moment to comprehend the instructions that were given to him. 

He broke from his stupor and ran from the house, jumping in the driver's seat of the car. Mr. Kaplan giving him a quizzical look.

“Agent Mojtabai-”

He cut her off, feeling like he was going to throw up. “Dembe said *77. To find the closest place, he will be out with Mr. Reddington any moment.”

All color drained from Mr. Kaplan’s face as she pulled out a small burner phone and placed a few calls, only speaking a few hushed words at a time.

Aram still sat trembling as he turned the engine and Mr. Kaplan typed a destination into the car’s GPS.

Ocean City, New Jersey, a 40 minute drive.

“Aram what is wrong with-” As she finished with the GPS she began to voice the screaming question bouncing around in her head. Only to be cut off by Dembe swinging open the door and laying an unconscious Raymond on the back seat.

His skin was pale with a bluish tint and his mouth slightly agape, purple spotted arm laying exposed, plain for Kate to see. She focused on the inside of his arm, the purple bruises and small pinpoint incision mark a clear sign of what Kate had most feared. She was sure that he wouldn’t try to do that, he had never given himself too much before, he knew what he could handle- 

Dembe threw himself down onto the car's seat, laying Red's head down on his thigh.

Kate looked up from Raymond's arm, a mortified expression on her face as Dembe shook his head in confirmation of what Kate Kaplan already knew.

She didn’t possibly think in her wildest dreams that Elizabeth’s “death” could push Raymond so far. She was almost positive when she had went to Elizabeth that he could recover, that he could move on like he always did-

Kate spoke in a faint voice, feeling suddenly lightheaded, overcome with excruciating guilt as she gaped at the consequences of her actions. 

“Drive Aram.”


	6. Wicked Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz POV. 
> 
> Lyrics and title from Wicked Games, Acoustic cover by Stone Sour. Here is the link to that. 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N0kDuZ2mcyg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew boy. This chapter was a doozy. It was pretty difficult to captivate what I feel Liz's emotions would be in this situation. I hope I did good. Thanks to everyone who reads and supports me and my writings, please, please, please leave me comments. Motivation is a huge issue for me when it comes to writing and your guys comments make it possible for me to continue. Btw screw canon. Because it isn't my canon any longer. The only thing I count as canon are all the wonderful books and fic's that continue to come out for our Lizzington ship. We will never die! Even in the face of questionable characterization, and motivations in the shows plot. Oh and don't forget actual psychopathic producers. I sure as hell don't know what they are doing, and to be frank I'm pretty sure they don't either. Lizzington will stay alive as long as everyone continues to read and write. Do your part everyone! I love you all! You are simply an extraordinary group of people. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own The Blacklist or its characters, and I make no mula off of these stories of mine.

Cuba was beautiful. Agnes was perfect. Tom was here. They were all safe.

Nothing could be better.

Their plan had gone off without a hitch, thanks to Mr. Kaplan. Tom had arrived with their beautiful baby girl shortly after Liz’s funeral, (a strange thought she tried not to dwell on, that she had been given a funeral) and they had been living in paradise ever since.

Or, that was what Liz tried to make herself believe. Because she wasn’t ok. This wasn’t ok. And as much as she tried to ignore that fact and lie to herself, it wouldn’t go away.

She seemed to be doing a lot of that lately, lying to herself. 

She had put on a mask, pretending to be happy for Tom’s sake, but everything inside of her shrieked out her pain and guilt, and how cruel and wrong this entire situation was. The guilt and anxiety came in waves. Receding shortly only to come back with twice as much vigor.

So many things were wrong, she didn’t know how to even begin to dissect her thoughts or feelings.

There was only one thing that she was absolutely certain of.

She was a coward.

She had left D.C for Agnes and to ease Tom’s mind, yes. But she had underlying motives. She was running.

Running from him.

But not because she was scared of him, or angry with him. But because her blossoming feelings threatened to throw a wrench in her fantasy.

Him, she couldn’t even bear to think his name. It made her heart twist in longing and guilt.

Elizabeth Keen had grown to love Raymond Reddington. A criminal. And a man that had shown her more love, compassion, loyalty and dedication than she could was possible from someone so hardened. She had a way of softening him, and she had only grown more attracted to him the more she got to see and get to know him when they were on the run.

She never could have dreamed that she would meet someone like him. 

So that was why she had to leave. She just had another man’s baby, and her and Tom were finally in a good place. She couldn’t allow herself to be distracted by Red after how close they had grown together over the months they spent together. 

She couldn’t allow her emotions to mess everything up. Yes, she ran for her family’s safety, but she also ran for her own selfishness. She ran out of fear of her feelings. And how they would threaten to mess up her one shot at a normal life with Tom, and her daughter.

She never could have dreamed she would lose someone like him either. 

For her own preservation of the fake life she had been living. The one she so desperately clung to. In the back of her mind, in the depths of her soul, she knew that even now that she was aware of the truth about him, that Thomas Vincent Keen was a lie.

He never had existed. He still didn’t, not really. The man that laid in bed with her every night was not really the man she had married.

She was in denial. She knew that. But he had promised, promised everything could go back to the way it was, that he really was Tom.

Even if at first it was an act, he had promised her that it wasn’t any longer. He told her that Tom Keen was who he was now. And that he loved her. That she was his second chance.

And really, how could she say no to going back to the way things were? That was the only thing she wanted. To go back to being unaware. Ignorance was bliss.

She couldn’t say no to him, now that she was that much closer to her fantasy, her dream. 

“It’s been the same thing for as long as I can remember. I’m walking in a park with my husband. In between us is our little girl. I’m holding her hand in mine and I never let go.”

And her admitting to herself that she loved Red, would ruin her chance to keep living in that ignorant bliss.

So she ran.

Strange what desire will make foolish people do. 

She quite literally ran from reality, head first into that fantasy she had shared with Red.

Red.

She tried in vain to not think about what she had done. And how cruel and twisted it all was. 

Here she was, living a lie in Cuba, while he was grieving her in the states. How absolutely destroyed would she be if he died? Or, worse yet, if he faked his death to run away from her? If he ran away from her only to escape his complex feelings? In order to preserve a lie?

He would never do that to her, he loved her.

Oh Lord, he loved her.

But she still didn’t want to fall in love. Not with him. Not right now.

But what choice did she have? 

He had saved her countless times, kept her alive as a fugitive, restored her name, given up everything, just for her. Because he loved her.

Loved... loved?

If he had found out somehow what she had done, that she had betrayed him, that she had left him even after everything he had done for her, would he love her still?

Would she have to refer to how he felt about her in the past tense? Like how he must be referring to her right now?

She felt panic, guilt, and anxiety all rise inside her, nearly knocking her off her feet. How could she do that? Not just to Red but to everyone she loved? To everyone she hoped still loved her? What kind of monster was she? How selfish could someone be to-

“Liz? Did you hear what I said?”

She looked up, hoping the tears that were threatening to fall from her eyes weren’t visible to Tom.

She cleared her throat and looked back down to the book she had been staring at mindlessly in her lap. Tom was behind her, cleaning up from their breakfast this morning. 

It was about 7am, Agnes not having been able to sleep past 6:30am. 

Tom had noticed how distracted she seemed and suggested that she relax with a book while he did the dishes and cleaned up Agnes, who was sitting in her bouncy chair next to the kitchen table.

Sunlight streamed through the windows, mocking the darkness that had found root in her mind. The smell of the sea wafting through the pastel colored home.

House, she corrected herself, this wasn’t a home, not her home. Her home was back in D.C, back with everyone she knew, everyone she loved-

“Sorry, what did you say Ja-” She stopped herself, steeling her voice, hoping he hadn’t noticed her slip. “Tom?”

He looked at her from the counter, and she could feel the annoyance radiating off of him. She couldn’t tell, however, if that was due to her almost calling him by his old name, his real name, or if it was due to her staring off endlessly into space. Ignoring him.

“I asked if you could wash Agnes. I think she may need a bath. I’m almost done with the dishes.” He talked with a noticeable amount of coldness, turning back to the dish water without waiting for a reply. Essentially commanding her. It didn’t escape her notice.

She crossed the room, and picked Agnes up from her chair, her sweet, perfect baby girl.

She squirmed a little in her arms, her bright blue eyes wide with curiosity as she looked up at her mother. Liz melted, Agnes making no uncertain amount of adoration make itself known in Liz’s mind.

She moved swiftly to the bathroom, feeling the need to be away from Tom’s prying eyes.

He could tell she was falling apart at the seams. Doubting their plan. Wishing to go back. 

But how could she not?

She also couldn’t help but doubt Tom’s motives for leaving. She was sure he was worried for Agnes as well, but he was all too eager to be able to leave the states, to go far away from anyone of his old “associates” who may still be looking for him. That fact in tangent with how possessive Tom had been of Liz whenever they were around Red, how it always set him off whenever she mentioned Red, she couldn’t help but think if she wasn’t the only one with ulterior motives.

She had noticed how whenever she showed any hesitation or any sign of guilt in what they had done how Tom had become angry.

Agnes cooed as she placed her in the infant tub, soaking a sponge with warm water. She scrubbed her gently, and she felt a twinge of regret that she wasn’t able to be there for Agnes' first bath back in the states. Right before Agnes and Tom had left for Cuba.

Tom.

Had Tom been able to see it as well? How she looked at Red, how Red looked at her? Did Tom know that Liz dreamed about Red? Was this sudden possessiveness linked to the fact he could see through her angry persona towards Reddington?

Though sometimes, she did admit that she found her demeanor wasn’t always an act. Red was annoying and closed off as usual, but it was more than that.

She never dreamed that she would love someone like him. 

Why couldn’t he just make things easy for her?

Why did he have to waltz right into her room while she got ready to get married to Tom? Why did he have to tell her not to marry Tom when she already had doubts she was trying her hardest to ignore? Why did he have to seem so hurt when she wouldn’t budge in her commitment to Tom? Why couldn’t he just leave her alone so she could move on? So she could try and forget about the burning ache she felt whenever he was near? Why did she have to dream of him, and how his body might feel against her? Why did she have to dream of what it might feel like for him to hold her, and kiss her, and make love to her? 

And really, what a wicked thing to do, to make her dream of him. Because surely this was his doing, his fault. 

Right? 

Her life could be so much easier if only he would just leave her alone to marry Tom and raise Agnes, if she didn’t have him around, the option she really wanted, when she knew she should go with Tom, the safe option? The only chance she may have, to be able to have a shot at her fantasy? Why did her feelings have to mess everything up? Why did he have to make her feel so alive whenever he was near? Why did she have to crave him so intensely?

What a wicked game to play, to make her feel this way. 

She looked down to Agnes who was grabbing weakly at the sponge, trying to feel its rough texture on her tiny palms. It was only then that she realized that her tears were falling and mixing with the damp coat of clean water that coated Agnes tender skin.

How could she do this? Could she really be happy with Tom, when she couldn’t forget Red? Could she really just move on with her life, knowing how much of a coward she was, and how much pain she must be causing all her friends?

Really, her family. The task force and all of Red’s associates that had only been kind and helpful in helping her restore her name, were her family. 

She had left her family to grieve her, believing she was dead. How could she overcome this exhausting guilt that never left? Could she continue to stay strong in her decision to come here, to abandon everything, when she wasn’t absolutely sure of its necessity?

Kaplan and Tom had convinced her in that makeshift hospital room that Agnes could never be safe in Red and Elizabeth's world, but was that really true? Red had every mean to protect her and Agnes, and even Tom.

And she knew that Red would not hesitate to do whatever it took for them. Nothing was too much to give up for their safety.

But if someone had followed her here, some criminal from the blacklist, or hell, even from her old profiling days, could she protect Agnes then?

Alone? With none of Red’s security? Without any backup from the FBI? She didn’t realize just how much she relied on them, until now that is. 

She didn’t dare to think of the answer to her question, but she knew that she couldn’t. She couldn’t protect her baby like Red could should something go wrong.

What if Solomon had followed her here? What would she do if the people she was running from followed her?

The irony of her situation was thick, that the person that had inadvertently put her in danger was also the only person that could protect her. She didn’t know what to do with that realization, but then again there really wasn’t anything she could do.

If the world caught on fire, the only person that could save her was Red. 

She took Agnes out and began to dry her with a small plush panda towel. 

Tom would never leave. He had found freedom out here, freedom from looking over his shoulder for Berlin.

He believed he was safe here.

And he would not leave this safety now that he found it. Besides, it was too late now.

She had passed the point of no return when she had agreed to be put under, when she had said goodbye to Red for the last time.

All she could do now was hope. Hope that they were hidden well enough. Hope that no one would know that they were here.

Because if someone did, well, Liz couldn’t think about that right now. With all the doubts, guilt, and anxiety in her head, the thoughts of how hurt everyone back home must be, the thought of how devastated Red must be, she couldn’t bear to add another.

The only way she was going to make it out here all alone, the only way she could find some happiness with Tom, was to put all of that out of her mind.

She had made her choices and there was no going back. Remaining sad, guilty and stressed over things she could no longer control would not help her. She had to get rid of all her misgivings now. She had to move on with her life.

She stood with Agnes in her arms, hand on the bathroom door knob. Bracing herself to put on a brave face.

She had to embrace the lie.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom confronts Liz, and Liz finally rids herself of all the mind games and abuse she has endured over the years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a longer chapter, but it is chock full of realizations for our dear Liz. Write comments to keep me going guys! Thanks for all the support this has received, it means the world to me!
> 
> Also, Happy Birthday to James Spader! This isn't a great birthday gift, considering that his character is incapacitated throughout the chapter, but Happy Birthday to one of the best actors I have yet to find nonetheless. Yay for talented people!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the Blacklist or the characters, and make no profit off of my works.

The call came when Tom had just gotten back from the produce stand down the street.

Agnes was playing happily in her crib, watching the mobile circle lethargically above her head. Liz was watching TV and doing laundry, folding the colors and putting them up in her and Tom’s room.

The day was still fresh, and Liz let her mind drift, but still managed to steer it clear of any thought of what, or who she left behind in D.C. She was resolute now after her small breakdown in the bathroom with Agnes earlier, she was going to learn to be happy. Learn to compartmentalize the guilt, learn to forget him. She would do it for herself, and for her life with her baby. And, and for Red. Because he wanted her to be happy, right? He wanted her to be safe, and happy, and free. So that was what she would do.

That was what she was repeating over and over in her head as she picked up the last load of laundry and marched it to her and Tom’s room. Leaving Tom on the couch in the living room, and baby Agnes by his side. It would be later during this never ending day that she would marvel at how easily she could have missed the phone call had she not been placing her clothes in her dresser drawer, standing where she could easily hear the vibration of the burner phone in the night stand.

The burner that only was ever called by Mr. Kaplan during emergencies. Her previous train of thought, the one that she was trying to use to convince herself that everything would be fine, was disrupted by the vibrating sound of plastic buzzing wood.

She turned, and pinpointed the origin of the noise. Mr. Kaplan's emergency phone.

Every previous thought she had of reassurance, of comfort, or peace, was now gone. Replaced by the hollow but all consuming feeling of fear in the pit of her stomach. She dropped the clothes in the drawer haphazardly, a grey spaghetti strap rolling over the edge of the drawer and cascading down to the hardwood planks of the bedroom floor.

She stalked over to the table, digging through the drawer, to check and make sure she was correct in her assessment of what the sound was. She bit her lower lip when she found herself to be right.  
Eye’s wide and hands slightly shaking she flipped open the burner, pressing a button to answer the unknown numbers call. A million scenarios flew through her head, like alarmed birds taking to the sky after being spooked by a loud noise. Flying with no real direction or purpose, just mobs of feathers taking to the sky.

Had they been found out or compromised? Was Solomon coming to find them? Did the Task Force find out that she was alive? Where would they run to next? Was the danger immediate? Did she have time to pack up the house or would she just have to take Agnes and Tom and run?

She clicked the accept call button. 

Kaplan didn’t speak for a stretch of time, the longest few seconds of Liz’s life. Liz tried to be patient, but everything inside of her screamed to hurry, hurry and find out what was wrong, hurry and find out how long they had, hurry and figure out a plan to keep her baby safe.

So she spoke first.  
“Mr. Kaplan? Is everything alri-”

“Elizabeth, it’s Raymond.” Kaplans voice lacked her usual calm exterior, sounding broken and quiet. She sounded like someone trying to gently deliver devastating news. Like she was trying to tread carefully, out of fear of stepping on a landmine. It unnerved Liz.

The next thing to register was the fact that the conversation had taken a turn she didn’t expect.

Red?

What could be wrong with Red? Did he find out? Was he on his way here as they spoke? 

That thought, the notion that Red might come and see her at any moment, made her heart pick up pace and her stomach clench.

What she couldn’t tell however was if that was due to anxiety at seeing him again and having to explain herself, or at excitement and the hope of hearing his voice speak her name again.

The name that only he used. She was his Lizzie.

The nickname that used to be so unsettling and wrong, was now so perfect and endearing. She only wanted so desperately to simply hear him say her name again. And the fact that she wanted to be caught, just so she could hear him say her name again, well she didn’t fail to notice that. 

“Did Red find us?” She tried not to sound excited, but the tiniest hint of it was there, standing behind the fear of having to explain herself if she was to go back.

Mr. Kaplan didn’t seem to notice however.

“No, Elizabeth, he-” The line went deadly silent, and the mood shifted.

No, Red wasn’t coming.

The excitement was gone now.

Vivid memories and sensations invaded her mind, stealing away her breath. The flash of a far off assault rifle, the sound of his moan as he was dragged across the pavement, a bloody streak carving its way through the asphalt, dictating where he had almost been killed. The sound of his voice as it was suffocated by blood, the pleading tone in his voice as he said her name. Savoring it, sounding to all the world as if he could be content enough to die if he could only whimper her name one more time. 

“L-lizzie” 

And more prominently, the same feeling of guilt, anguish, and anxiety that plagued her now. 

By the way that Kaplan was acting you could think that, was it possible that he was, was Red-

“He what Kate?” Liz’s voice was unsteady, and she could feel anxious tears pricking her eyes.

Her mind was jumping to a thousand conclusions, each one worse than the previous.

Of course her mind was going there, to the worse conclusion. He always put himself in danger, he was never safe. She knew it was unhelpful to jump to conclusions before she had all the facts, but she knew the life he lived, and just how easy it could be to take it.

The sudden and completely suffocating thought that Mr. Kaplan could be calling Liz to tell her that Red, her Red was gone, that her Red was-

She didn’t dare to allow herself to think father than that. She didn’t dare to speak, say a word, or even breathe. She was just frozen, knowing one of two things was about to be spoken on the other side of the line. Either that he was hurt, or that he was dead. 

She heard Kaplan breath out a shaky breath and knew she would have her answer soon enough.

“Raymond almost overdosed himself on morphine last night.”

Liz’s heart stopped. As her brain worked to process those words, she felt her legs give out from under her, and she landed on the bed. She found that those words would not process, that they refused to compute in her mind. What did Kate mean by ‘overdosed himself?’ 

Surely Red would never, no. That was impossi-

“What-What do you mean?” Her voice was quiet, lacking the strength to rise to any level above a whisper. She hoped she was wrong, she needed to be wrong. She prayed that Red hadn’t done this to himself. That he couldn’t. 

Kaplan elaborated with great difficulty, drowning in anguish and guilt of her own. How could she be so cruel as to inflict this on Raymond? What was she thinking, letting Liz run to Cuba? She spoke quickly, wanting to get the words out of her mouth as soon as possible.

“The night after you left, Ray left without a word to anyone. Dembe was worried about him so we asked Aram to track his chip for us yesterday. It led us to Cape May, New Jersey. He had broken into an old beach house and Aram found him unresponsive on a bed there. I called in a *77 and we went to Ocean City to get him stabilized. We are now back in D.C in the Silver Spring house. He is stable but it was a close call. He is fine for now and isn’t expected to wake until later tonight.”

Kaplan took a shaky breath, waiting a moment for her words to sink in. “The doctors believe it was purposeful.”

The line went silent, waiting to see what Liz’s reaction would be.

Liz just sat, feeling like she was watching someone else's life go by.

The tears dripped silently off of her face as her brow furrowed in confusion. She didn’t understand.

How could Red try and take his own life? How could he do that? Did he do it, because he thought she was gone? Because everyone thinks that she's gone?

The sudden realization hit her all at once, and she felt physically sick. Her breathing picked up, her heart starting to beat in her chest faster. She put a hand up to her face, and let out a sob. Everything inside of her was breaking.

Raymond tried to kill himself because he thought she was gone.

The tears came quickly, catching on her lips and chin before falling to wet the comforter beneath her.

She couldn’t get enough air. Her lungs filled and released the oxygen quickly, but she couldn’t breath. She felt like she was drowning.

She shouldn’t have left.

She should have stayed. Why had she let Tom and Kate talk her into this? What if- what if he hadn’t made it? What if he still doesn’t wake up? What if Red had died? What would she do then? What if he was still going to die?

What if Kaplan had called to tell her that Raymond had killed himself?

What if Red, the strongest man she knew, resilient to no end, had successfully taken his own life because he thought she was dead?

Her sobs were racking and harsh, her entire body convulsing with guilt.  
How could she have done this? She almost killed him. Red almost died. And she wasn’t there. This was all BECAUSE she wasn’t there.

He was alone. She was alone.

He needed her and she couldn’t deny that she needed him. The thought that she had almost lost him, the thought that he still believed he had lost her, it was too much. This was all too much. She couldn’t do this. Not any longer. Not when Red had almost died, and was he in so much pain that he would try and kill himself-

She calmed her breathing enough to be able to speak. Knowing what she was going to do. With help or not. She couldn’t stand this any longer. 

“When can I get on a plane?” Her voice was meek and quieter than she wanted it to be. Sore with shame. Her vocal cords coated with her tears.

Kaplan was startled. She had thought that Elizabeth might ask to come back, but she was surprised at how short of a period of time it took her to make up her mind. Based off of the rustling on the other end of the line Liz was already packing. She knew there was no use in trying to stop her. 

Kate had debated telling Liz or not, knowing that it might break any resolve Liz had left to stay in Havana. Kate had seen just how reluctant Liz was at first when agreeing to the plan, Tom being the main reason behind her decision. Even more after she had woken up, after the full gravity of what she had done came crashing in on her.

Kate should have never tried to force Raymond away from Elizabeth. The only thing she could do now is bring them back to each other, and hope that the carnage that she had made could be fixed.

“Get to the airport in an hour. The plane will be waiting for you three.

Liz quickly agreed, already tossing clothes haphazardly into a suitcase. She hung up the phone, and proceeded to pack.

The only thing she allowed herself to think about was what she would need, shirts, pants, bras, and underwear. Using the task of checking off a mental list of all she would need stabilize her. One foot after the other. 

She wouldn’t allow herself the option of questioning her decision. Her decision to give up her new life. Her decision to rush back to him. She didn’t allow herself the time to think of the repercussions of her going back, what scrutiny and anger she was sure to face.

Because none of that didn't mattered.

He needed her and she couldn’t do this any longer. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself, she couldn’t stay here in this hell any longer.

Because this was hell without him. She was in hell knowing what she had done to him, and knowing how much pain he was in because of her actions.

She needed to fix this. She didn’t know how but she was going to fix this.

She didn’t realize Tom was staring at her from the doorway until she flipped around and almost smacked square into his chest. 

“Liz what the hell are you doing?” He stood, arms folded across his chest, with an irked expression playing across his features. She stood, suitcase gripped in her hand. The tears were still falling, making her eyes red. 

“Pack some clothes. We need to go back to D.C.” Tom’s eyes widened and flashed, anger taking hold after a few moments of surprise.

“Liz the hell we are! We are not going back to D.C. What has gotten into you?” He made a move to grab the suitcase but Liz was faster.

“Stop!” She held the case out of reach, resting behind her thigh.

“Tom we need to go back. We-We have to go back, Kaplan has a plane coming to pick us up in an hour and we need to get ready-”

“Liz knock it off. We are not going anywhere. We are safe here from Reddington and the FBI. You just need to calm down. When you have a clear head you will understand that running back is not an option, we have to stay strong and stay here. No matter how hard it can be at times-”

“No Tom, I’m not running back because I'm freaking out. I need to go back because Red is hurt and he needs me-”

“You are choosing him over me then?” Liz stopped and looked up to Tom. He was angry, very angry. 

“No Tom I’m not choosing anyone, this is cruel and I can’t do this any longer.” Liz was exasperated, she needed to make him understand, Tom had to understand that this was no longer an option. It shouldn’t have even been an option in the first place. 

“So you would be willing to put your baby in danger just because Reddington comes crying to you? You would be willing to ruin everything that I, that WE, have worked for just because Reddington comes calling?” Tom waved his hands around the room as he ranted, his voice rising with each syllable he spoke. Liz could feel the frustration rising in her, the anger that sparked with Tom’s tactless comment suggesting that Liz didn’t care for her baby’s welfare. She made sure to speak her retort with as much venom as she could manage, hoping that if she scathed Tom enough he would let her through the door to pack Agnes what she needed.

“Let’s not lie to ourselves Tom. We have done enough of that as of late. We both know this was never about Agnes safety. She will always be safe with Red’s protection. In fact, by bringing her here we only subjected her to more danger. If Solomon, or a Blacklister, or one of your old employers followed us here, we wouldn’t be able to protect her. We couldn’t do it alone and we would only be at more risk for leaving our baby with only one parent or even worse, none, if both of us were killed. Reddington will never hesitate to protect her or me, or even you. Just due to the pure fact that he knows I care about you for whatever senseless reason. She will be fine. I’m not worried for Agnes I’m worried for Red because he isn’t fine right now. And I am going to make that right so move the hell out of my way Tom!”

They were both yelling now, and Liz could hear Agnes starting to fuss from the living room.

“I won't let you throw away our freedom! I won’t let you make us go back!” 

“It’s not your choice! Let me through Tom. Now.”

“This is all for the best Liz, he won’t be able to bother us any longer. I won’t let you endanger our only shot at freedom! Freedom from him! I won’t let you choose him over me and run back to his side! I’m not going back!” Tom was gesturing wildly with his hands, and Liz felt fear prick in her stomach. He stepped forward aggressively, and Liz cringed when his hand flew a little too closely passed her face.

She had a vivid memory of the last time Tom had been this angry, and she could still feel the pain scorching her body as if it had only been yesterday that he had beaten her.

She had to get Agnes and herself out of here, away from Tom. Before Tom could stop her, she moved back to the nightstand where the burner phone had previously sat, and quickly picked up a gun.

“Fine Tom. You can stay. I don’t care! I am taking Agnes and we are going back to D.C. But if you don’t let me through to my daughter and let us leave I won’t hesitate to shoot you again. And this time you won’t recover. Because this time I will empty the clip.“ She brandished the gun as she spoke, and she saw a hint of fear in Tom’s eyes. He stowed it away quickly and Liz sincerely hoped Tom couldn’t see through her bluff.

Because Liz knew that if it came down to it, she would have a hard time attempting to kill Tom again unless Agnes was in immediate danger.

(And the fact that this wasn’t the first time she had almost killed Tom should be a red flag regarding their twisted relationship all on it’s own.)

But she had to be prepared for anything, considering how scary To-

No.

She had to stop thinking that way. This is not Tom. Tom never existed.

This is Jacob. 

She had to remember that when it came down to it, she did not know the man in front of her. And if she had to shoot him to protect her daughter she would. She had to be physically able to kill this man.

The man she has allowed herself to live a lie with for the past two years. Even after she was well aware that she had no clue who it was she was having a baby with. Acting like nothing had changed was much easier than facing the truth. So that’s what she had done.

Acting like nothing significant had happened. Acted like some part of Tom was alive, alive in Jacob. She allowed herself to believe that after so many years of acting the part, Jacob was really the man she had married.

But she couldn’t pretend any longer.

Not with her newborn baby in the other room, and a criminal determined to stay hidden between them. Not when she couldn’t know for sure how far Jacob would go to get away from his old life.

She didn’t know how much farther he would take it this time, after all, this wasn’t the first time she had stood in the way between him and his freedom. And the last time she had tried to intervene like this, Jacob might have killed her had she put up more of a fight. 

Her old wounds ached, the long healed black and blue bruises stinging her skin, reminding her of the last time she had put herself in this situation. And this time she wasn’t the only one in danger. Would Jacob harm his own daughter? Or use Agnes as some kind of bargaining chip for his guaranteed freedom? 

He might try. But only over Elizabeth Milhoan's dead body would he succeed. 

She steeled her resolve and put a bullet in the chamber with the snap of the slide. She would not let the lie she had almost completely convinced herself of endanger her daughter, herself, or Red.

She couldn’t let the lie and the mind games consume her. Not again. 

She might not be able to kill Tom, but with such high stakes and her mind cleared of all the mind games she had subjected herself to over all these years of lies, she could kill Jacob. She had no qualms in killing the imposter. 

“You can’t kill me Liz. You’ve already tried and failed. Besides, my baby is in the other room. You wouldn’t murder her father in front of her. Even if you did have it in you.” He took a menacing step towards her, a sneer crossing his face. She leveled the gun at Jacob’s chest, and flicked the safety off. 

“You’re right, I can’t kill Tom, but I sure as hell can kill Jacob. The man that has manipulated and lied to me for years, the man that was sick enough to make me believe that I was in love with someone that never existed, and furthermore, that even after I knew the truth, he made me believe that he was still the same figment of my imagination. Made me believe that he really was the man I married, that under all the lies, that he really loved me, and that I loved him. Made me believe he was really Tom, just under a different name. But none of that is true. It was just all mind games. Just games to make me fall in love with him again, and guarantee his ticket to a new life away from all the people that still want to kill him, complete with protection from the FBI’s Most Wanted man. I can see through the lies Jacob. Let me take Agnes and leave or I will kill you.”

Tom took a step back. And she could tell that he saw that she was no longer kidding around.

His hands were shaking when he stepped away from the door frame.

She rushed through, and grabbed Agnes a backpack full of clothes, and the diaper bag. She would have to get everything else Agnes needed from Mr. Kaplan.

Jacob simply watched her from the bedroom door, leaning against the doorframe. Still looking slightly dazed.

She grabbed Agnes out of the crib and left without another word, boarding the private plane and taking off for D.C twenty minutes earlier than scheduled.


	8. chapter 8 (I have sorta given up on chapter titles)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzie comes home, and Dembe puts his anger and confusion aside to help Kate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I've honestly giving up on chapter title songs. Which is sad, but it's just that none are really fitting. The first few chapters they fit right in perfectly, but now they aren't. I'm sorry. Sorry for this late update, things have been hectic over here in college land. Heh. Thank you all so much for reading, and please comment! They really help and are the best part of my day!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own The Blacklist or any of it's characters. I make no profit off of my works.

She was panicking. 

The safehouse was just right there, Red was just right there.

All she had to do was walk inside the door, somehow avoid Dembe’s agonizing gaze, and hope that no one from the task force was visiting. Then she would be with him.

Mr. Kaplan would be back any second now, having gone to check and see who all was in the safehouse. She would tell Liz if anyone from the team was currently visiting, and update her on what to expect when she sees him.

But for now, all she could do was sit.

Agnes was sleeping soundly in her car seat beside Liz, peaceful.

Peaceful. Liz was anything but.

She felt nauseous, and her head swam with guilt and anxiety. What would she do if someone from the team was here? She had to confront them sometime. She didn’t have a choice. They all knew, everyone knew. Kate had explained on the drive here from the airport that Dembe, and the whole team already knew that Liz was alive.

The only one that didn’t know was Raymond. Having had yet to wake up from last night.

Kate had been there with Aram and Dembe when they had found Red, and the three of them had taken him to one of his emergency medical teams in Ocean City from Cape May. 

The place Red had chosen to hide when he believed he had nothing left. The place where Red had attempted to quit. Quit everything.

After Red was stabilized Kate had explained to Dembe and Aram what had happened and that Elizabeth wasn’t dead. Kate however did not tell Liz how they both had reacted to that news.

In turn Aram had told the task force. Mr. Kaplan had told her how supportive the team had been, checking on Red and helping in any way they could.

Liz didn’t know what to expect from any of them. That was what worried her. She didn’t know what she would do when Red woke up, she didn’t know what he would do either.

She didn’t know what was best.

Should she leave before he wakes, and allow him to gently adjust to the fact that she was alive and all that it now implied? Or should she be there when he wakes up, be there to explain herself?

Then there was the matter of when she should tell him. Would it harm his recovery if he was told soon after he woke? Should she wait for him to be well before she let him see her?

She just simply didn’t know what to do. She was physically sick, and it all felt like a nightmare.

She didn’t know how long she could wait, considering how badly she needed to see him. Needed to touch him.

Needed to be assured that he was fine. 

Oh Lord she missed him. She missed him so much it hurt.

She needed him, and didn’t know how to live with the burden that she placed on him. She had convinced the man that loved her that she was dead.

She had left him, and consequently, he almost left her. Permanently. But wasn’t that what she had originally planned to have happen? Isn’t that what she had at first wanted? 

What was she going to do? How could she ever make up for the biggest mistake she had ever made? How could he ever forgive her for causing him so much pain? How could she live with herself after that?

Tom, the task force, and most especially Red raced through her mind as she stared mindlessly out the window, anticipating Kaplans return. Trying to plan for every possibility. 

She felt like a little kid, returning home after a playdate to confess to her parents that she had done something bad. That could be an accurate representation of her current situation, if the choice that was bad was betraying everyone that currently loved you.

She still couldn’t believe how reckless and stupid she was, running away permanently with Jacob. How naive was she?

She had to be honest with herself, now that she had ripped off the hastily placed bandage Jacob had put over her wounds. The summarized list of those wounds being, betrayal, denial, the complete lie her marriage was, the violation she felt having slept with an imposter, the confusion of knowing that her husband never really existed, and the fact that she had a child with the con artist and murderer that had invaded her life.

She felt so conflicted, because she wanted comfort. Comfort from her husband, Tom. She was still grappling with the fact that he didn’t exist. That he never existed.

Everything her life was built on had been ripped out from under her, and she had been on an unstable foundation ever since. Everything was a lie.

Ironically the only time she had felt steady, had a stable force in her life, was when she was a fugitive. Without a home. Somehow, during the most stress filled time of her life, she had been at her happiest. Her most secure.

That was because on the run, she had Red. Red was her anchor.

Her Polaris. 

The only person that loved her unconditionally and helped her no matter how bad her misstep had been. He had saved her life more than once, tried to get her to see the truth about Tom even when she was in denial, he comforted her, tried to give his life up for hers, and given her back her life after she had murdered not one but two people. He had restored her name after she had shot Tom Connolly, and after she inadvertently had killed the harbor master. He never stopped looking out for her, protecting her, saving her, loving her.

Even at the expense of himself. He was willingly tortured to save her life, put his own life on pause for a year to help her right one ginormous wrong, and spent his money to keep her safe. All the while throwing himself in front of danger to spare her. Countless times. 

And she had just thrown him away, as if he was nothing. As if he didn’t matter. Because somewhere down the line, she had actually somehow convinced herself of that. Because that made her feelings easier to ignore.

How completely and utterly wrong she was. 

Red was one of the most important people in her life.

She had just destroyed her only support, and now she was crumbling into rubble.

What if he wouldn’t forgive her? What if he could never learn to trust her again, what if he kicked her out? Got rid of her? Told her that he never wanted to see her again? What if he walked away with his hands up, far from this mess, unwilling to save her from herself yet again, after she had hurt him so deeply? Surely even he had a limit of how much of her shit he could take. What if the task force did the same thing, and they were incapable of forgiving her?

She didn’t think she could handle that. Even if she irrevocably deserved it. 

It didn’t register that Mr. Kaplan had been approaching the car until the driver's side door opened. She sat down heavily in the leather seat, looking exhausted. And about as physically ill as Liz was feeling at the moment.

Kate felt the same amount of guilt as Liz for what she had done, and didn’t know how to fix things. Especially not with Dembe avoiding Kate, not having said more than a word at a time to her since last night. Refusing to look her in the eyes.

“It’s just Dembe, Elizabeth. Raymond is still asleep.” Liz didn’t know how to feel about that.

On the one hand she was glad that she wouldn’t have to confront him, but on the other hand she wanted him to wake up. She wanted to see him, and know that he was safe and alive. 

“I don’t know what I will say Kate. I don’t know what I will do.” She choked. 

“I don’t know what you should do either Dear. But this is a start.” Liz gave a shaky exhale, knowing that Mr. Kaplan was right.

Kate moved around the side of the car, gently grabbing Agnes and her carrier. Elizabeth took a deep breath before exiting the car. They walked briskly through the front door, not bothering to knock.

Dembe stood on the other side of the hall, facing the doorway. His brow furrowed as he took Elizabeth in, only now able to believe that she was truly alive having seen her for himself. Kaplan looked down at the floor, pushing her glasses further up her nose.

Dembes' expression was full of something Liz couldn’t decipher, relief, confusion, and something resembling anger. All thrown together into one strange mix. 

“Elizabeth.” It was stated matter-of-factly, and Liz already knew how angry Dembe was going to be with her when his relief wore off.

Dembe felt betrayed, and completely disagreed with what Kate had done. She should have known that Raymond wouldn’t just bounce back from such a low blow. He still had a hard time believing that Kate could be so cruel as to let Raymond watch as Elizabeth died in front of him. Kate knew how much Raymond depended on Elizabeth’s steady force in his life. How she could just stand by and let him fall apart, he did not know. 

Liz wanted to sink into the corner, Dembes eyes seeing straight through her and making her squirm with guilt. She knew she deserved it. And Dembe deserved an answer. An apology. Everyone did. She steeled her resolve, determined to make things right, to begin to make everything right again. She stepped out from behind Mr. Kaplan, looking Dembe in the eye with all the regret and sorrow she was feeling.

“Dembe, I am so sorry. For everything. It was all so wrong and I never meant for Red to get hurt in any-”

“Raymond is two rooms down that hall on the left.”

Dembe's voice was deadpan, his face betraying no emotion as he seamlessly cut her off.

As he finished speaking, he peeled his back off the wall and disappeared around the corner. Not sparring Liz a second glance as he stalked to the back of the house.

Liz stood, mouth still agape, still ready to form the rest of her hastily cut short apology. It had never crossed her mind that Dembe wouldn’t even let her apologize. How was she going to make things right if everyone wouldn’t let her? She felt tears filling her eyes as Kaplan put a hand to her shoulder, gently turning Liz. 

“He will come around. Don’t worry. Let’s go see Raymond.” Liz walked up to his room numbly with her head down. She stopped as Mr. Kaplan went in. Her feet wouldn’t move. She kept her gaze fixed on the floor.

“Elizabeth deary, he is still asleep. You have nothing to worry about.” Liz took a deep breath and stepped in.

She needed to be done with the fear and anxiety. She just had to be there for Red now. He needed her and she would never be so foolish as to abandon him again. 

As her gaze drifted to him from across the room she bit her lip to stop a sob from pouring out of her mouth. He was as white as a sheet.

He looked to be cold, his arm covered in miniscule goosebumps. There wasn’t any clear indication of what was wrong, and if he wasn’t so pale and ghostly looking, Liz might just simply assume he was resting peacefully.

Nothing could be further from the truth. 

The heart monitor hooked up to him gave steady beeps from across the room, filling the uneasy silence. Her burden seemed to double now, seeing and knowing for herself what her absence had done to him. She felt like she was drowning, her breath catching in her throat.

She had successfully stopped any audible sound of anguish from escaping her mouth, but the tears that had been pricking her eyes from the moment she stepped inside the safehouse began to roll off her muted cheeks without warning.

The room seemed to spin and she felt decidedly lightheaded as she plopped herself down into a fabric bedside chair. She could do nothing but stare at him through blurred vision, trying futility to breath. 

Kaplan stepped up from the doorway, placing Agnes in her carrier beside her mom. Liz was glad for this, she needed her daughter. Agnes was the only good thing to come out of her continued relationship with the imposter.

Kate felt as a singular tear rolled off her own cheek, falling quickly onto her jacket. She should have never meddled in Elizabeth’s personal life. She might have had doubts that Raymond could keep Liz and Agnes safe from physical harm, but she had completely forgotten about her other duties. To keep Raymond safe from himself, his own worst enemy, and to keep the BOTH of them happy. She had accomplished neither here. And it was clear now that Elizabeth was not at all safe or happy by herself with Tom in Cuba.

She stepped out of the room quietly, feeling like a failure as she watched the most important individuals in her life suffer. She felt like she was shattering, her own failure crushing her. 

Stepping out into the hallway Kate was surprised by a pair of arms wrapping around her and pulling her in close. Dembe’s tears rolled silently into her hair. 

Kate let her own tears pour more freely, feeling eternally grateful for Dembe being able to put his anger aside in Kate’s moment of need. Even after everything she had done, Dembe was still able to try and forgive. To try and comfort her in her mistake. 

“It will be okay Kate. I’m still confused and angry, but just know that you are not alone. Families persist even when they are at odds. I know that you are sorry, and trying to redeem yourself and Elizabeth. Thank you for not letting this drag on any longer Kate.”

Dembe himself looked miserable, and she knew that he wasn’t trying to punish her. He was just completely blindsided by her betrayal and her cruelty. 

It was wrong. She did something terrible. But Dembe wanted her to know that no matter how terribly she had messed up, and no matter how angry he was with her, she would never be alone with him by her side. He was going to try and help her make things right.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth makes a decision, and Red wakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consider this the major lift predating the minor fall...
> 
> Leave me comments! 
> 
> Thank you for all the support this story has received, but if you really wanna help me out write me a comment! Your comments give me happy chemical so I can do stuff! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own The Blacklist or any of the characters.

She knew she was running out of time.

She had to make a decision and commit to it. She couldn’t keep second guessing herself like she had the entirety of today.

She was afraid. She knew what was right, and that was being here for Red. Explaining herself to him. Taking the initiative to make things right.

But she wanted to run.

She grew increasingly on edge as the hours went by, aware of the closing time gap to make her choice.

She had spent the day at his bedside, still too afraid to touch him. She had taken care of Agnes, watched television, and talked to Mr. Kaplan as she came and went.

She hadn’t seen Dembe since this morning however.

As she went about doing all these things, busy work really, she had continued to overthink her decision. She knew what she should do.

Let Red wake up, get settled, and then she should have Dembe or Mr. Kaplan explain things to him. And then, she should talk to him herself. That's what she should do. She shouldn’t leave him again. 

But she can’t bring herself to do it.

She can’t even bring herself to touch him, let alone explain her betrayal to him. She was petrified.

And time was running out. Red was expected to wake up any minute now. It was 6:03pm , and the doctor had explained that Raymond should be starting to come out of things at roughly 6:20pm.

She felt physically sick, her stomach nauseous and her head pounding. She was fidgety, chewing her nails and tapping her fingers as she watched Agnes sleep in a crib that Mr. Kaplan had brought in.

She looked over at Red’s sleeping face, his muscles lax. She wondered how his face would look when he first saw her. Would he be angry? Happy? Shocked? Probably all three, Liz mused.

What had she done? Why had she put herself in this position, why had she been so stupid? Red was going to hate her now, yell at her, scream at her, and she deserved it.

But she still didn’t want to see that look on his face, she didn’t want to see how he looked when he found out what she had done.

She felt so guilty, she wanted to curl herself into a ball, and disappear. Hide forever with her shame, her anger at herself. 

She was a fool. She couldn’t face him, she just couldn’t. She had to get out of here, she had to hide. She couldn’t be brave.

She couldn’t do this-

Red was going to yell, and scream, and what if he told her he never wanted to see her again? 

What if he ran off for good, leaving her to wallow in her own guilt?

She needed him so badly, but after what she had done, her biggest fear was that he would no longer need her.

The fact was simple. At this time, when she was on the verge of hyperventilating, she couldn’t do it. 

She felt a sense of urgency now, because she had to get out before he woke, she had to get out of here before she could no longer breathe due to her own panic and desperation-

She hurriedly began throwing things into her bag, tears blurring her vision and dribbling onto Agnes toys.

Her breath was shallow and quick, and her lungs couldn’t seem to get enough air.

She kept checking over her shoulder, praying for him to still be asleep, but at the same time wanting him to wake, to stop her from leaving him again-

The walls seemed to close in on her, her betrayal looming over her.

She hoisted Agnes out of the crib, her tears wetting her daughter's hair. She pulled the bag over her shoulder and shakily made it to the door.

She was a coward. Taking the easy way out, leaving Raymond once again. She was so desperately sorry, but she couldn’t make herself stay.

She needed time. Time to think of what to say, time to allow Red to wake up, just time. 

She was so filled with her own grief and guilt, her own disappointment in herself, that she couldn’t bear to add anymore. She couldn’t bear Red’s as well. She would break.

She opened the door, stealing one last look at Red’s peacefully sleeping face.

She had the strangest urge to crawl in next to him, to wrap her arms around him and beg for his forgiveness. To feel him, smell him, to become enveloped and safe in his arms. To hold him in turn, to comfort him after all that he had been through, all the pain that he had endured. They could be better together, they always had been. They could work it out together, they could hold each other, feel each others warmth and know that they were safe and alive, and happy together- 

But, she couldn’t. 

She all but sobbed out, gasping for air through her river of tears, “I’m so sorry Red, please forgive me.” Before rushing out the door. 

Leaving him again. 

\------------------------------------------------------ 

The first thing to register in Red’s mind, was a dull, aching pain behind his eyes. The second was something strange sitting under his nose, blowing little puffs of air into his lungs.

His eyes blinked open lethargically, the assault of the light above him making his migraine all that much worse.

It took him a second to place where he was, to place that he was in one of his D.C safe houses.

His eyes slipped downward to see a cannula strung under his nose, and an I.V in his arm. A heart monitor was beeping steadily in the corner, accompanied by two empty chairs, and strangely, a baby crib.

It was pink, with a small baby blanket left crumpled in it. 

He couldn’t see anyone in the room, and immediately felt restless simply laying in the bed. His mind was foggy, and his arms shook as he tore the I.V out, and pulled the cannula off his face.

Swinging his feet off the side of the bed he could see he was in one of his sleepwear sets, a navy blue sweater and silk pajama pants. He questioned how he had gotten here, all the while sitting on the edge of the bed to gain his bearings. Waiting rather impatiently for the room to stop spinning.

He couldn’t remember anything, well at least nothing that could tell him how he had gotten back here, his mind hazed. The last thing he could clearly remember, was the ocean. The house in Cape May.

He didn’t remember leaving that fold-up chair, or even going inside the rather decrepit beach house to collect his things.

He quickly came to the conclusion that Dembe must have found him. But if that was true then why didn’t he remember it? And why was laid up in a makeshift hospital bed? 

He looked back down to his elbow, the opposite arm of the one the I.V was previously in, to find fading purple splotches creeping up his arm. In the epicenter of which, there was a tiny pin hole.

A needle hole. 

Morphine. Giving up. The world fading to black. 

The reminder served to bring to light some other parts of the story.

Like the part where he hadn’t cared about making it out of Cape May alive, to the point of honestly not caring not to check his dosage after he yanked on the needles plunger.

Halfway to hoping that was killing himself. Russian roulette with a needle. 

His brow furrowed at that memory, as he suddenly realized the gravity of what he had done.

If it was true that Dembe had been the one to have found him, what had he seen upon entering that bedroom? 

The sudden realization that he had almost left Dembe, almost left Kate, knocked the wind out of him. He exhaled a shaky breath, grateful to still be alive.

Oh Lord, what had he done?

He was spinning out of control, and that terrified him.

His eyes slipped close as he grimaced.

What kind of person was he, that he had to be saved from himself? He gulped, the guilt he felt weighing down his soul.

How could he have ever been so careless? To let himself sink so deeply into his own grief, that he had almost put Dembe and Kate through losing both him and Elizabeth in under a month?

Deep down he knew that it wasn’t his fault, but he couldn’t help but blame himself for letting his demons drag him under. Couldn’t help but feel selfish, even when he knew just how intense the pain he was in that night was. He couldn’t help but blame himself for not being stronger.

But really, in the back of his mind he knew there was only so much a person could take alone. He hadn’t helped himself by running away like a wounded animal going to die, by letting himself become unreachable. By allowing himself to become unable to be dragged out of the depths of his pain, by anyone that may have wanted to help him not be alone in his pain.

The pain that was still very present in his mind. 

What would be his life now, knowing that he had a hand in killing Elizabeth? Knowing that she was gone forever and that he was to blame. Knowing that he would have to start running again, have to look over his shoulder for the rest of his life. Only this time, he had no motivation to keep himself going. He would never be able to know Agnes, and Agnes would never know her mother.

All because of his selfish actions, putting Lizzie in harm's way. Making her fight his battles. When all she wanted was a normal life.

If she hadn't been put in danger that day, causing unnecessary stress that triggered Agnes delivery. Peril he could have prevented if he had only had the forethought to do so. Danger that he could have prevented if he had only stayed out of her life, if he would have just simply left after she knew the truth about Tom and had made her decision. She might not have had the baby early, and under such extreme stress in a filthy club.

And if she hadn’t had the baby that day maybe there wouldn’t have been complications, maybe she could have had the baby safely in a hospital that had all the right equipment to help her, to save her. 

His mind swirled and spun, a hurricane of mixed emotions. Pain, grief, guilt, and stinging regret rampaged in his body. 

He felt like he was drowning. He felt the same pain as he did back at that beach house, back before he-

No.

He physically shook his head, taking a deep breath and opening his eyes. Trying to shake himself out of his stupor. He couldn’t afford to go down this road again.

Everything was numb and pointless, and every pore on his body screamed in emotional anguish.

But, he had to choose to stay. For Dembe. For Kate. For Isabella and her baby. He had to commit to stay. For them.

If he had to continue out running the FBI and his competition for the rest of his life to keep them safe and happy, so be it. They needed him to be strong.

Even if he was breaking. They still needed him.

This was different from last time, from the first time he had to run. From the first time a woman he loved more than anything, was a casualty of his war. A war that back then, he didn’t know he was fighting in.

But this time he knew. And this time he had to keep fighting.

This time at least he had support. He wasn’t alone. It still burned, and sliced into his soul, he still felt the excruciating agony.

But he did have a motivation, it just wasn’t one pertaining to revenge, or the cabal. This time he would keep going for his family. Even if a large piece of his family was forever gone.

He might not ever be truly happy again, he might be sinking in guilt and grief for the rest of his natural life, but that would be ok.

He could trust his family, he had people to trust. People he had to protect. He wouldn’t fail a member of his family again. He couldn’t. His people needed him.

People that he now needed to talk to. To thank for saving him from himself once again. To apologize for being so careless and selfish. To reassure that he wouldn’t run away with his pain, that he wouldn’t let himself fall so deep. 

He had to make it. For them.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red finds the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew boy. All aboard the angst train. Choo Choo! Thank you guys so much for continuing to support me and my works, it means the absolute world to me. I know I've been more sporadic and untimely with updates, and for that I sincerely apologize. I have been so spaced out and unfocused these last few weeks, that sitting myself down to write without any distractions is proving to be incredibly difficult. I hope this update delvers well, and that everyone likes it! This is a longer chapter, about 12 pages in docs, but it has a lot to cover. So strap in, and enjoy the ride! Thank you for all the comments, and if y'all have the time, leave me some more! I love reading and responding to all comments, they seriously make my day. Thank you so much friends!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own The Blacklist or any of it's corresponding characters, nor do I make any profit from my stories.

Red stood from the bed below him shakily, planting his feet on the floor. He stood swaying for a few moments before regaining his balance. He tore the heart monitor off his finger.

Losing any sign of his heart beat, the machine flatlined, a singular beep droning on, one note being suspended continuously in the air.

It sounded just like the noise that the ambulance heart monitor had given when Lizzie had died. 

Lizzie had died here. In this city. She was buried in this city, he was sure. The thought made him crumple, this burden placed on his shoulders of remembering how lifeless she looked, made him want to sink to his knees and cry.

He would be sure to leave D.C as soon as possible. He had nothing for him here anymore. 

He made his way out to the hallway, taking a shaky breath in tangent with each uneasy step he took. His body was weak, still recovering from the hell he had put himself through.

It probably wasn’t wise to have just clambered out of bed by himself but, he had so much to apologize for, to make right. He needed to start as quickly as possible. He needed Dembe and Kate. 

However, even with his strengthened resolve, he still didn’t know how to handle both his grief, and his guilt at the same time. There were so many things he just didn’t know.

His socks were slick on the hardwood floor, making walking all that much harder. He leaned against the wall for support, cursing himself for being so unsteady.

He was just about to call out, to call out for Dembe or Kate, to let them know he was awake and ok, when two distinct voices came drifting from the kitchen just around the corner.

Dembe and Kate were talking. He was about to walk in and interrupt, when something caught him off guard. Something Kate had said, physically stopped him. 

“...yes she called. She was hysterical Dembe, crying. She feels so terrible, Elizabeth just doesn’t know what to do.”

Red froze, absorbing what he just heard.

Elizabeth.

But Kate couldn’t possibly mean, his Elizabeth, could she? No, no. She couldn’t. Lizzie was dead. She couldn’t be calling. Because she was dead.

But then who, who was Kate referring to? Red racked his brain for the names of any associates named Elizabeth. Any that Kate could be referring to. He came up with nothing. Some aliases perhaps, but Kate would not be calling any of the associates by their aliases unless they were in public.

It didn’t add up. His heart was pounding louder and louder by the minute, as he grew more and more nervous. He didn’t dare move, eavesdropping further so that he could hear some more context, so he could hear further details. So he could remember who it was they were talking about. He was surely just forgetting one of his associates. 

He stood still behind the wall, making no sound as he listened, waiting to remember whatever criminal or associate they were clearly talking about.

Because the woman he had at first immediately thought of, well that was clearly impossible. That couldn’t be possible. 

“So she is at her apartment with Agnes then?”

“Yes. She said she thought she could do it, thought she could face him, but she ran away at the last second. Elizabeth sounded terrible Dembe.” 

No.

Time seemed to slow as everything went wrong. His heart seemingly stopped injecting his aching muscles with blood, his lungs ceased to bring the air he so desperately needed to him. His brain turned to mush as it allowed his muscle to collapse beneath him, bringing his body to lean against the wall with a soft thump. He could now distinctly hear a small buzzing in his ears. 

Agnes?

But Agnes is with Tom, and Liz is dead.

Elizabeth is dead.

He watched her die, he held Elizabeth as she died.

Elizabeth couldn’t sound like anything because she was dead-

No, it couldn’t be true, he couldn’t allow himself to hope. Because the entire idea that Elizabeth could still be alive was ludicrous.

It was insane.

He felt insane.

The possibility of it, felt insane. 

“What are we supposed to say to Raymond then when he wakes Kate? Does she want us to tell him for her? She needs to face the consequence of her actions Kate. We cannot do it for her.” 

Red felt his heart racing, panic setting in. He stepped out from around the corner, his jaw clenched. He couldn’t think, it couldn’t be possible-

“Tell me what?” His voice came out sharply, his eyes wide.

Kate spun around, looking as if she was seeing a ghost. Pale, nervous, terrified. She was almost cowering, caught off guard and panicked. Dembe looked equally anxious, and sharply exhaled when he saw Red, fall back against the kitchen door frame, still weak from waking.

His body may have seemed weak, shaking with both excursion and now alarm, but his eyes burned wild with green intensity. 

The pair looked as if they had been caught red handed, stealing a cookie from the cookie jar. Their demeanor set Red further on edge, confirming his fear that they weren’t simply talking about an associate.

Dembe feigned a smile.

“Raymond. Brother, I’m glad you are here and feeling better but you should still be in bed-”

Red cut him off, looking both shaky and pale. 

“I was the one that taught you how to deflect Dembe, I should know when I’m being steered away from something I wasn’t supposed to hear.” Red stated. His tone of voice was still sharp, but it ever so slightly wavered, weak with exertion.

Dembe gulped, his eyes still swimming with fear and ...pity? Was that pity that Raymond could detect in Dembes expression?

He moved from off the wall, determined to stand on his own, in defiance to both his body and Dembes worry. He talked with force, arms crossed.

“Tell me what?” His voice was hoarse and gruff, sounding similar to gravel being run over by a car tire.

Mr. Kaplan shifted uncomfortably, and she and Dembe exchanged a look. Kate nodded yes to Dembe's silent question, whatever it had been. Dembe looked back to Red, who was brimming with anxiety. Questioning what had just taken place between the two in front of him.

“Raymond, you need to sit down.” Dembe moved forward to lead Red back to his bed or perhaps the sofa, but Red stopped him. Moving his arm out of the way before Dembe could get a hold of it, like a petulant child being led into the dentist's office.

“Dembe, I’m fine just tell me-”

“No Raymond, you really need to sit.” Kate's voice was shaky, and her eyes seemed wet.

Her tone gave Raymond pause, letting Dembe gently grab his brother to lead him to the sofa behind them in the living room. Everyone feeling the overall tone in the room darken. It did nothing to ease Red’s qualms.

Dembe sat next to him, placing a steadying hand on Red’s shoulder. He held his gaze, and Red was now completely certain there was pity saturated in Dembe's eyes.

He looked around for a few seconds anxiously, Dembe did not want to be the one to tell Red about what happened. This was going to be bad.

Dembe gave an reassuring smile as he began to speak, though it seemed strangely tinged with darkness.

Dembe tried to think of the words to say, the best way to deliver the blow. He knew it had to be him, Raymond wouldn’t take the news and believe it from any other source. Raymond had overheard Kate and his conversation, for an unbeknownst amount of time.

He probably already knew what was about to be said, but was clinging firmly to denial. Learning and accepting this entire situation, was going to be excruciatingly painful. Not at all easily overcome.

Dembe knew he couldn’t dance around the subject. That would only prove to further confuse his brother. Raymond didn’t need that right now.

Dembe had to just come out and say it. That would be the only way to get Raymond quickly back on the path to stability.

Dembe took a deep breath, trying to clear his throat of the sudden mass that had appeared there.

He locked eyes with Red before ripping the already crumbling ground Raymond had found a foothold in, out from under him. 

“Raymond, Elizabeth is alive. She’s here, safe in D.C. with Agnes.” Dembe spoke softly, trying to soothe Red.

To placate him.

Dembe and Kate didn’t know what his reaction would be and that was what proved to scare them the most. Their collective anxiety grew even more when the only thing Raymond could do was stare, wide eyed. Trembling. 

His gaze fixated at a point between his black socked feet. 

Over the course of Dembe’s short sentences, his eyes grew wide, his brow furrowed, and his body became racked with tension.

Red had heard what Dembe had said, but it seemed to just filter through his mind, not taking grip on any part of his consciousness.

He didn’t lift his gaze as he finally spoke, a long moment of silence filling the dead space in the stale room.

His brain was attempting to process, to at least try and catch up. It still just wouldn’t compute. His voice was quiet and strained.

“I-I don’t understand. What do you mean, she’s-“ His voice tapered off, not even knowing how to finish his sentence.

Dembe could see the gears working in Raymond’s mind, spinning aimlessly, trying to even begin to understand the information that was just given to him.

They sat, watching Red for several seconds, not knowing what to do.

He finally looked up, and gave a small smile, his brows creased in confusion.

“No, no. That can’t be. I was, no, you BOTH were there. Her heart stopped beating. I held her body. She can’t be alive Dembe, I held her body.” He chuckled disbelievingly, looking back down again and shaking his head. Still smiling, all the while tears reflected sharply in his eyes. 

Kate could see as the tone shifted from amused doubt, as if it was only a funny joke, to desperation and bewilderment. The words and their implications only beginning to sink in.

He lifted his head to look back and forth between them. All the humor gone from his expression. Kate watched as his demeanor started to break down, everything inside of him splintering. 

“Right?” His voice broke, a strange mixture of pain and hope drowning out the green hue of his irises. 

Red couldn’t process. He just couldn’t.

He couldn’t allow himself to hope, for fear of the fall off of the other side, when reality came crashing through. The reality that his Lizzie was still dead. 

That would break him.

He was too close already. Going through it all again.

He could still feel her cold face as he gently kissed her eyelid, he watched it all over again as her chest ceased rising. He felt as the life faded from her as he gripped her hand, stroking her hair.

Begging her to stay. Pleading with her not to go. Telling her not to leave. 

Pleading desperately, to her, to fight. If not for him, then for her daughter.

Pleading with her to use all her anger, to not dare go gently into her good night.

Yearning only for her to pit all her usual stubbornness against this, to use her fighting spirit to come back.

Praying to whatever God would listen, that if she would only wake up, if she would only be ok, that he would do whatever was asked of him.

Bargaining her soul for his, telling that same God to take him, to let her make it back to her newborn child.

To take him. Just take him.

And if his tarnished soul couldn’t be enough, he promised he would spend the rest of his life trying to make up for the blood on his hands. Bargaining that he would stop all his heinous acts, that he would repent, that he would do everything in his power to be good again. Like he used to be. 

Even as he knew that he couldn’t stop now, even as he knew he was in too deep to merely quit. Even as he knew would be killed if he ever tried to just simply stop. He knew all that, but he would stop it all in a heartbeat, if only just to hear her heartbeat again.

His bargaining ultimately failed. It wasn’t enough to save her. 

Red was there. Lizzie died.

She couldn’t be alive. 

Even though it was the one thing he fervently hoped for, the only thing prayed for.  
He knew how unrealistic it truly was, which was why he couldn’t believe it now. He couldn’t.

The reality of her death was too real to be so simply overcome. It was a laughable idea. He had begun to grieve, and was finally starting to accept that she would be gone from him forever.

It had become concrete in his mind. The skepticism and distrust a symptom of his hard earned and pain filled acceptance that he would never be whole again. The reluctant acceptance that he had once again only been able to stand by as the woman he loved died. 

They had to be wrong.

“No Raymond, I-” Kaplan gulped and looked down. Not able to look Red in the eye as she admitted what she had done.

“I helped Elizabeth fake her death to run away with Tom and the baby. To leave D.C and run away from the FBI, and from you. Raymond, you have to understand that I thought that she would be safer and happier, but I was wrong, and I forgot to think about you and how essential Elizabeth is to you. She wasn’t safer or happier, that’s why she and Agnes came back when they heard what had happened. Raymond I’m so sorry, I am just so-”

Red cut off Kate with a mumble. 

“Lizzie isn’t dead.” 

Kate stopped talking, tears rolling down her faces as she finally looked up to Raymond. She was shaking, terrified of what Raymond would do.

He in turn, was pale, and shaking himself. Dembe had a hand on his shoulder and looked down to Red concerned. He was still staring at that same spot between his feet, not having moved an inch. He looked like he was in shock. 

“No Raymond, she isn’t.”

Kate watched as Reds' expression suddenly hardened, his face becoming neutral.

The only sign of the shock he had just received being his trembling hands.

His eyes became dull, any shine from his tears disappearing. His breathing was deep and even, and his face was slack.

He raised his head slowly, locking eyes with Kate. She felt fear prick in her spine, instantly recognizing the calculating, cold, strategist sitting in front of her.

She knew Raymond was going through every possibility in his mind, placing his mask over any vulnerability that might be left.

Because one fact was now true.

Red couldn’t trust either of the people that were sitting in front of him. Cruel, backstabbing strangers, took the place of his family.

He was alone. Again.

His eye twitched as he spoke, his voice monotone and cold.

His calmness covering up the stabbing pain he felt at realizing he had been betrayed by those he loved most.

There would be more questions later, when his brain could even begin to process. But for now, he needed to know only one thing. 

“Who all was in on it?” He said it mutely, but nothing about it was meek. His anger was icy, not yet hot and burning. It hadn’t set in completely yet, the extent of the betrayal and all it implied.

He felt like he was going insane, trying to grasp everything that had just come to light. 

Kaplan’s voice was shaky as she spoke, laced with fear, guilt and shame. 

“It was myself, Nick Korpal, Tom, and Elizabeth. Raymond please don’t blame Dembe, he had nothing to do with this. He only just found out himself and-“

Red stood, still feeling slightly angry. But mainly numb.

Dembe's hand fell to the couch from Red's shoulder. He made no move to place it anywhere else from where it now resided. 

Red wasn’t able to completely understand and process everything just yet. He didn’t know if he ever would be.

He began walking back to his room without a word, leaving Dembe and Kate breathless in the sitting room.

Kate felt panic rise in her like bile. 

“Wait! Raymond where are you going!?” He stopped in the hall, not bothering to turn to face them, keeping his back to them as he mumbled. 

“Tell Elizabeth that if she would like to meet, I want to see her. I-I need to see her. I can’t believe that she is, that she would-“ He shook his head, more to himself than to Dembe and Kate. “I just need to know. And I can only do that if I see, if I see her.”

He wasn’t able to choke out all that he was thinking, he didn’t know how to even begin to voice the thousands of thoughts bouncing around in his skull. And he didn’t know if he could trust the people currently with him enough to tell them what he was thinking.

His wall was hastily going back up, closing him in. He didn’t know who to trust, or if he could let anyone in.

He chastised himself, for being so foolish.

For letting anyone get close. He should have known better. There were a million thoughts going through his head as he stumbled back to his room, but the main one was questioning as to why.

Kate had said that Lizzie did it to run. To run from the FBI, and from him.

She had wanted to leave him. She was willing to let him believe that she was dead, so she could leave him behind. And go be with Tom.

Did she really think she needed protection from him? Was she afraid of him? Or just those around him?

Did she really believe that he wouldn’t do every single thing in his power to protect her and the baby? He would even protect Tom. If only to make her happy. 

He would have left her, if she would have only asked. It would have killed him, it would have destroyed him but he would do it for her. Watched from a safe distance. If that was what she really wanted.

But she didn’t ask. 

She faked her death to get away from him. That fact was irrefutable. 

He fell back onto his bed, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. Any resolve he had left to try and be better or to move on dissolving within him.


End file.
